Free A Baron in Her Bed by Maggi Andersen

of her brows and a jerk of her head.
    “It appears your mother wants you to mingle,” Horatia said. “We must talk later.”
    The chatter around the room centered on Lord Fortescue’s encounter with the highwaymen. Digswell Herts was some twenty-two miles from London. It lacked a toll road, the closest being at Ayot Green, and nothing so dangerous had happened within the environs for years. It was as though his lordship had brought trouble with him, riding into their midst wreaking havoc, especially for her. She appeared to be of no special interest to him, but an appeal to his better nature might work. Apart from his rakish ways, he’d shown some evidence of a trustworthy nature.
    “Have you summoned the magistrate?” Lady Kemble asked Lord Fortescue with an exaggerated shiver. “And given him a good description of the rascals?”
    “I have, but I expect they will be miles away from here by now.” He glanced towards Horatia, and a tiny frown puckered his brow.
    Horatia lowered her gaze and busied herself with smoothing her gloves. When she looked up again, his gaze remained on her. Was that a speculative look in his eye? She could not allow the conversation to continue in her father’s presence. As soon as attentions were distracted by a waiter bearing glasses of champagne, she backed against the wall and dropped her fan into an urn.
    “Oh dear,” she said to her father. “I believe I dropped my fan as we came in. And it is close in here with all the candles lit. Shall I go and look?”
    “No, my dear,” her father said. “I’ll tell a servant to find it.”
    As he moved towards the door, someone claimed Lady Kemble’s attention. Horatia seized her moment and stepped close to the baron. “My lord, I’m sorry to see you have suffered an injury. As it occurred a few miles from our home, I am anxious to learn more of your dangerous encounter.”
    A dark brow peaked above his amused blue eyes. “ Enchanté , Miss Cavendish, although it’s been blown out of all proportion, I assure you.”
    He offered his arm, and they strolled away from the throng. Everyone watched them, and no doubt thought her extremely forward when they walked out of earshot to the far end of the long salon.
    Horatia said, “I have a favor to ask of you, my lord.”
    “A favor?” He smiled. “When so charminga lady asks such a thing of me, how can I refuse?”
    Horatia frowned. So he switched the charm on and off when required? “Please do not mention your acquaintance with our groom, Simon, to my father. He was away from home that night, and I am the only one who knows Simon took his horse.” She searched his face for signs he might have discovered her ruse. If he had, he hid it well.
    “I see.” A gleam brightened his eyes. “We shall share your secret, no?”
    “If you wish to put it like that,” she said, growing cross.
    “You obviously have a close friendship with your groom, Miss Cavendish.”
    “No, I… He has been with us for some time and does confide in me, yes.”
    “You find him attractive, your groom?” He lifted an eyebrow.
    “Attractive?” Horatia grew progressively hotter and wished she had her fan. “I hadn’t noticed.”
    He stepped closer. “You allow this groom of yours to ride your father’s horse without his knowledge?” He made a tsk noise with his tongue and shook his head.
    Caught by the shape of his mouth, she raised her head to find laughter in his eyes. Was he toying with her?
    “Why don’t you order him not to?” he asked. “I’m sure Simon is eager to please his delightful mistress.”
    If he hadn’t recognized her, he was flirting shamelessly and no doubt would do the same with every woman under forty in the room. Horatia had heard the French were terrible flirts. She’d preferred his lordship when he thought her a man. “Simon is a very capable groom. Surely you would not wish him to be discharged for helping you?”
    “ Absolument pas !” He held up his hands, palms