Free Lady Blue by Helen A Rosburg

straighter.
    “Before … before I came to England, when my parents were alive, we lived on a ranch in the American West.”
    “A ranch!” Anthony exclaimed. “Cattle or horses?” “Both.”
    “Excellent. And the breeds?”
    Did he really care? Harmony had to admit a fire had lit in his gaze when she had mentioned the livestock.
    “My father started with Longhorns, but shortly before he died he imported a Hereford bull and a couple of heifers.”
    “Aha. Sturdy English stock from the hills of Herefordshire.”
    There was genuine warmth and excitement in his tone and Harmony couldn’t help but respond to it.
    “Yes, indeed, and they proved to be extraordinarily sturdy. My mother and I continued to breed Herefords after Daddy died because we were so impressed by the efficiency with which they convert their feed to beef. We even did some crossing with the Longhorns, and the results were amazing.”
    Anthony wondered if he had just actually felt his heart do a flip-flop in his chest. He reached for Harmony’s hand and squeezed it.
    “Let me guess. Higher quality steaks with better marbling?”
    “How on earth did you—?”
    “I … I, uh, have a keen interest in livestock,” he said, reluctantly releasing Harmony’s slender, delicate hand and turning away. “What about the horses?” he continued. “Did your family breed them as well?”
    “Not initially. We purchased our working stock from other ranchers. But then Daddy became interested in harness racing.”
    “The new sport that’s taken your country by storm?”
    “Exactly. Don’t tell me you know all about Standardbreds as well.”
    “Why shouldn’t I? Wasn’t that breed founded by another English animal?”
    Harmony was truly impressed. “Yes, the great Thoroughbred racehorse, Messenger. I believe the trotters, Standardbreds, were begun with a cross between Messenger and a Narragansett Pacer.”
    “You’re so right. And your knowledge is impressive.”
    “As is yours,” Harmony replied, returning the compliment. The conversation, she suddenly realized, was as heady as the wine, and she momentarily pressed cooling hands to her cheeks.
    It wasn’t that she’d never had a conversation with a member of the opposite sex before. There had been ranch hands with whom she was casually friendly, and they certainly had a lot in common to talk about together. And there had been young, well-educated men of good families she had met while traveling with her mother and father. But never before had topics in common, education, and good looks been all wrapped up in a single package.
    Furthermore, as long as she was being honest with herself, Harmony had to admit that the “bad boy” element, the hint of danger, was even more titillating in real life than in the dime novels she loved to read.
    More curious, and compelled to draw Anthony out even further, Harmony regarded him with a quizzical expression, right forefinger lightly tapping her upper lip.
    “Tell me, Anthony,” she said slowly. “I’m curious. How did you come to find out about harness racing and the Standardbred breed? Have you an interest in horses?”
    If she only knew, Anthony silently mused. But that was the point. She didn’t. And it had to remain that way. Still, however, he knew he should give her an answer.
    “It avails a man to be well mounted, does it not?” he replied at length. “Especially a man in my position.”
    It was not exactly the kind of response she was fishing for, but Harmony wisely let the matter drop.
    Mere moments later, Anthony abruptly stood up and brushed off the seat of his breeches. “May I get you anything else?”
    Harmony gazed at the remains of their picnic lunch and shook her head. “No, thank you. If I eat any more I’m afraid I might pop and you’ll have nothing to return to my sister.”
    The reminder was sobering. To both of them. It struck Harmony as absurd, however, that she felt dismay at the thought of returning to Agatha. She had been