Free A Stolen Season by Tamara Gill Page B

across the room toward him. He stifled a look of annoyance. “Mother, what brings you to my side?”
    “Do not play coy with me, Eric. You know very well why I wished to speak to you.”
    “Enlighten me,” he said in a boorish tone meant to aggravate his maddening parent.
    “What are you playing at with that chit, Miss Baxter?”
    Eric glared at his parent. “You are overstepping your bounds, my lady.”
    “You are my son, and I may say and ask whatever I wish. Now, explain yourself.”
    “There is nothing to explain that warrants your attention.” Eric took a sip of his whisky. “And you are forgetting the fact I am not betrothed to another.”
    “But you will be.” His mother huffed beside him. “How can you do this to Patricia? Why, just the other day her mama spoke of the expected agreement between you two.”
    Eric couldn’t have put it better. Agreement would be the sum total of the feelings he and Patricia would share if they ever married. She was a lovely woman to look at, young and beautiful and in desperate need of a coronet. Eric wasn’t fool enough not to know what she sought in a marriage. It was a pity William had never seen through her false motives.
    “No one will tell me whom I marry, Mother, including you.” Eric met his mother’s heated gaze with one of his own. How she could even imagine him marrying the woman his brother loved was beyond him. He stemmed the urge to shudder.
    “Furthermore, what is this nonsense about riding in the park tomorrow? People will talk, Eric.”
    “Let them.” He shrugged. “A ride in the park does not ruin a reputation, Mother.” And there was no way he would miss riding with Miss Baxter.
    “I will not have it, Eric. I warn you now, keep up this foolishness, and I’ll never forgive you.”
    Eric bowed. “It seems we are in agreement.” With a stab of regret, he watched his mother storm away, the feathers atop her head flying around like a live bird. His mother was impossible, pigheaded, and downright vexing. Eric took a calming breath, and began searching the crowd for something to cheer him up, namely Miss Baxter. He spied her standing next to Lord Stanley.
    Eric studied her and wondered why Miss Baxter seemed different from the other women of his acquaintance. Why she fascinated him so. She dressed the same as other women. Was from a family of wealth and yet somewhere along her path to adulthood she’d blossomed into a woman of independent thought and ideals.
    Miss Baxter was a woman who didn’t follow society’s rules, having said herself she wasn’t looking for a husband. Which was agreeable with Eric as he wasn’t looking for a wife. Yet, underneath the nerves he was sure he brought forth in her was a lady with a lot more plans and opinions if only she’d open up to him. Miss Baxter was a delightful enigma and she had him enthralled.
    He glanced at her brother, standing beside her. Again, the siblings’ physical differences struck him. He frowned, but the puzzle wasn’t nearly as intriguing as the anticipation of his riding appointment in the morning. It could not come soon enough.

Chapter Eight
    “Would you mind, Anita, if I walked outside for a moment? I’m feeling a little warm.”
    “Would you like me to join you?”
    “No,” Sarah said. “I need but a moment.” Sarah exited the room and welcomed the balmy night breeze. She walked to the edge of the terrace and noted lit lanterns throughout the garden.
    The houses in present day London no longer had such generous, beautiful landscapes. Land was a rare commodity and soon sold off to make way for more flats in the city. Sarah took a deep breath and the scent of sandalwood wafted across her senses.
    “It’s lovely to see you again, Miss Baxter.”
    She’d know that voice anywhere. Lord Earnston stood behind her — a dark, overbearing shadow that skittered delicious shivers down her spine.
    “Thank you.” He stepped beside her and the action afforded her a glimpse of his