Free Anne Barbour by A Dangerous Charade

true of you.”
    Feeling somewhat ashamed and a little ridiculous, Alison merely nodded her head. She had led the way to the front door as they spoke, and now opened it for him.
    “In that case, my lord, I will bid you good night.” Without giving him a chance to respond, she handed him the hat and walking stick that Masters had laid on the hall table and shepherded him hurriedly from the house. Closing the door, she turned and leaned against it. Her breath came quick and shallow, like a child running from shadows in the night.
     

Chapter 6
     
    Alison sat smiling among the ruins of a substantial picnic lunch, listening to the merriment around her. Meg’s mal d’esprit had apparently vanished during the long reaches of the night, for at breakfast this morning she had been her usual sunny self, full of plans for the afternoon’s expedition. On the walk to the top of Beechen Cliff she had entranced the male members of the party, although they were still of an age where they liked to pretend that the existence of females on the planet indicated a momentary lapse on the part of the Creator. Nonetheless, her every whim had been catered to by budding gallants, with the result that at present, young Lady Meg was quite flown with lemonade and compliments. A game of catch was in progress.
    “I say, Sukey,” cried Mr. Peter Davenish to his sister, a shy maid of fifteen summers, “perhaps if you aim for Grenby over there, you might get the ball over here.”
    “Now, Peter,” called Meg from some distance away, “you leave Susan alone. Just because she doesn’t have your natural athletic ability is no reason to poke fun.”
    Not surprisingly. Peter did not take exception to this dictum. Instead, he threw the ball down and strode over to where Meg stood in conversation with Sally Pargeter. Sally was tall and slim, forever bemoaning her fate as a maypole. She was graceful and attractive, however, and of such sweetness of disposition that she attracted admirers of both sexes. She laughed unaffectedly as Peter flung himself full length on the ground and lifted his hand in petition for the two damsels to join him there.
    “It’s too hot for running about,” he complained, assisting the girls in settling themselves near him. In a moment all three heads were bent together in a lively conversation.
    “The young sprig is right,” said a familiar voice in Alison’s ear and she turned to behold the earl lowering himself into a chair near her. “It’s only April, but today one would think it July.”
    “Are you enjoying yourself, my lord?” she queried, wishing that Lady Edith were not some distance away, talking with Mrs. Pargeter and Reverend Rayburn.
    March followed her glance. Why was that Rayburn fellow about, he wondered irritably. He had noticed him as one of Alison’s more vocal admirers the other night at the Assembly. This afternoon the man was making a perfect ass of himself, hovering over Alison as though she were an invalid, incapable of procuring her own cold chicken and salad.
    “Yes,” he answered shortly. “I am enjoying myself immensely and will enjoy myself even more when these chattering children have all gone back to their nurseries and I can put my feet up in a quiet room with something large and cold in my hand.
    “Oh, but there is plenty of lemonade,” replied Alison, her eyes wide and ingenuous.
    “Ah, you relieve my mind. More lemonade is, of course, precisely what I require right now. Minx.”
    Alison laughed engagingly, bringing March to a startled realization that he was indulging in banter with the enemy. But, was she really his enemy? he wondered, as he had been doing with increasing frequency over the last few days. He wished her company wasn’t so damned enjoyable. This was not surprising, of course. Any adventuress worth her salt would have to be charming, and just as surely, he reminded himself, an engaging laugh must be a stock in trade for her sort. She was probably laboring under