Free Miss Hartwell's Dilemma by Carola Dunn Page A

Amaryllis answered, the corners of her lips twitching. “And you will see me in my office immediately after dinner.” So much for her theory that Mr. Raeburn’s presence would be conducive to superior decorum.
    “Yes, ma’am.” Eyes sparkling, Louise whispered, “It was worth it!” in Isabel’s ear as she passed.
    “‘A merry heart doeth good like a medicine,’” opined Miss Tisdale. “Proverbs 17, verse 22. But take away that salad, if you please, Daisy.”
    “I hope you will not punish Miss Carfax too severely,” begged Mr. Raeburn, who had been surprised into a most unclerical guffaw. “Bless my soul, I have not so enjoyed a meal in many a long day.” When he plodded out into the rain some time later, he was still chuckling at the memory.
    Miss Hartwell had half a mind to ban Louise from the outing to Colchester. However, that hardly seemed fair since she had studied hard. Besides, there would be no excuse for Bertram to join them if his niece was not to be of the party. Instead she had her write an essay on cruelty to animals. The frog had certainly been much more alarmed than anyone else.
    On Tuesday afternoon it was still raining, and the trip to Colchester was in doubt. After school, Louise and Isabel were found doing a most extraordinary dance in the vestibule. It involved a lot of stamping, gyrating, and waving of arms. Louise explained.
    “My brother learned a rain dance from an American boy at Eton. It is what the Redskins do to make it rain when there is a drought. So we are doing it backwards to make it stop.”
    Apparently the theory was valid, since by five-thirty it was clearing. Wednesday dawned sunny and by breakfast time promised to be warm.
    “It’s called an Indian summer,” said Louise with satisfaction.
    At nine o’clock the chaise from the Bell Inn was waiting at the gate, and a few minutes later Lord Pomeroy’s smart curricle drew up. He had his own chestnuts harnessed and his equipage altogether took the shine out of the hired carriage.
    There was some squabbling before Louise, Isabel, and one other girl squeezed into the curricle with his lordship and the disappointed four climbed into the aged chaise with Miss Hartwell. Lord Pomeroy looked as if he was inclined to join in the squabble when he saw her disappear inside with her charges.
    The curricle could have reached Colchester in half the time but, to Louise’s vociferous disapproval, her uncle chose to remain close to the chaise all the way. With a noted whip behind him, the Bell’s ostler pushed his horses all the way. They arrived before noon.
    The confectioner, warned in advance of their coming, provided a cold collation, which was barely touched, and a great many cream cakes, all of which disappeared. Lord Pomeroy paid the reckoning and was enthusiastically thanked by his niece and her friends. It was with a certain torpor that they repaired to the ruins of the Roman city.
    Miss Hartwell had made this excursion twice before and was well primed with facts for their edification. Before she could begin her lecture, she found herself drawn off along a secluded path by his lordship. As soon as they were out of sight, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, instantly dispelling the notion that indolence was responsible for his attachment.
    “Bertram, you must not!” she gasped as he released her, and she put up her hands to straighten her bonnet.
    “Did you dislike it?” he asked with a glint in his eye. “I did not notice that you tried to kick my shins.”
    “How could you ask such a question?” she said severely. “Of course I disliked it excessively. I am not accustomed to being mauled by those I had considered gentlemen.”
    He smiled. “It’s my belief I should have tried it years ago. It does not pay to be too much the gentleman. However, I beg your pardon, and I promise not to do it again. This afternoon. Unless you tempt me beyond bearing.”
    “I must go back to the girls at once.”
    “All right,