Free Anita Mills by Newmarket Match Page B

he likes you, Harry,” Richard teased.
    “And I love him!”
    “Come on, we’d best get back before you take a chill.” He caught her hand again, pulling her away from the horse. “I should hate to have you miss seeing him win the purse.”
    They walked back to the house quietly, trudging through the mud and wet grass, until they reached the back door. Richard stopped, lifting the lantern to illuminate her face. “Are you really going to marry Thornton, Harry?” he asked suddenly.
    “Not if I can avoid doing so.”
    “Good girl—you should not suit.” He dropped her hand. “Go on in—I have to make sure the stable door is locked.”
    “Wh-why did you ask about Edwin?” She had to know.
    “Because I count you as a friend as well as a relation,” he answered simply, dashing her hopes.
    He’d turned back to the stable, but she was loath to let him go just yet. “Wait—”
    He stopped, swinging around to face her again. “What?”
    “Tomorrow, will you tell me of the cats—how they fare, I mean?”
    “I can tell you now, but I ought to punish you for foisting them off on me.” She couldn’t quite see his face, but she thought he was grinning. His next words confirmed it. “You wretch—you miserable wretch, Harry. Your Athena is increasing again, or so my cook tells me. And she has no taste whatsoever, for she has bred with the commonest creature from the next house over. As for your Heloise, she is positive that she owns me, whilst Abelard, who is the only attractive one of the lot, cares only for his food.”
    “But you like them—admit it.”
    He cocked his head to one side and appeared to consider. “Like them? I should not go far as that, my dear. Suffice it to say that we have learned to rub along tolerably well together.”
    “I knew you would like them when you became better-acquainted.” Before he could answer, she ran inside, rubbing her cold arms for warmth.
    Later, snuggled in the comfort of her feather bed, she pulled her coverlet close and relived every moment. It was foolish to dream of him, she knew, but no one—positively no one—could take her dreams away from her. Not even Emma March.

Chapter 7
7
    It was with considerable trepidation that Harriet allowed Richard to hand her up into his carriage. Despite the relative ease with which she’d managed to convince Hannah that Mrs. Thornton did indeed wish her presence for the day, she still more than half-expected to be stopped ere they got out of the driveway. But Hannah had not said much, other than to inquire as to why Edwin himself did not come for her.
    And it had been so easy to lie that she felt guilty. Edwin, she’d assured her stepmama, had business elsewhere for the day. And indeed he had, for he’d told her he meant to travel to Cambridge to see to new furnishings for the front saloon. It was so typical of Edwin—he’d not bothered to consult her as to her tastes in the matter at all. All that had been needed then to convince Hannah was for Richard to offer to take her as far as the Thorntons’, sparing her stepmama the necessity of accompanying her. Indeed, but he would even bring her back when he returned from the races, he promised.
    No, all that remained was to pay a short call on Mrs. Thornton so that if the matter ever came up, she could have proof of having been there. For who was likely to ask precisely how long the visit had lasted? With that comforting thought, Harriet settled back against the deep red velvet squabs and tried to forget her qualms.
    “Still worried?” Richard asked, smiling at what he considered her groundless fears.
    “No,” she lied.
    The April air was crisp and invigorating, too chilly by half actually, but the heated brick at her feet warmed her feet through her thin kid boots. She slid her hands into the small velvet muff Faith March had given her the past Christmas.
    “Cold?”
    “A little.”
    “You will forget the chill when we get there. The excitement will more than keep