The Duke's Last Hunt by Rosanne E. Lortz Page A

although the duke was talking to her, his attention still seemed to be taken up by his friend. He was keen to know what had transpired between him and the Reverend and just as keen not to be seen eavesdropping.
    * * *
    Henry congratulated himself on a lucky escape from having to speak with the Reverend. As the large man began to pump Walter’s hand, he ducked around to the side and inserted himself into the little group of admiring females which had formed around Adele and Mr. Blount.
    Stephen arched his delicate eyebrows, no doubt surprised to see Henry there at the church after his protestations of last night.
    “I do declare,” said Miss Ashbrook, one of the daughters of the country squire, “that bonnet is all the crack, Adele.”
    From the corner of his eye, Henry could see Miss Malcolm, tethered to his brother’s arm. No doubt that hideous bonnet on her head was all the crack too. It must be Adele’s. Everything he knew about Miss Malcolm told him that she would not have willingly purchased such a showy monstrosity from her hat maker.
    Adele preened in acknowledgement of the praise piled on by her coterie of local worshipers. Henry had never known his sister to be self-deprecating about her appearance. “You are too kind, Miss Ashbrook. Mr. Blount was just telling me how much he liked my bonnet as well.”
    Henry grimaced at his friend, but Stephen seemed determined to ignore him.
    “I have the most brilliant idea,” said Adele, clasping her hands. “We shall have some entertainment tomorrow night at Harrowhaven. You must come, all of you.” She waved a small hand roundabout to extend the invitation to Miss Ashbrook, Miss Bertram, and Miss Cecil.
    “What sort of entertainment?” asked Miss Bertram, no doubt concerned about whether she should wear a frock suitable for dancing.
    “Oh, I don’t know,” said Adele, as if the specifics were unimportant. “But I shall think of something diverting, and I shall send around some cards tomorrow morning.”
    Miss Bertram and Miss Ashbrook let out squeals of delight, while Miss Cecil’s enthusiasm displayed itself at a more moderate level. Henry looked over their heads to see his brother leading Miss Malcolm over to the phaeton that they must have arrived in. It irked him to see that they were driving together unchaperoned. He looked over to his horse. Unchaperoned? He could solve that problem.
    “And will you be there tomorrow night, Lord Henry?” said Miss Ashbrook, sending him a flutter of black eyelashes.
    “Yes,” said Henry, silently cursing the politeness that was detaining him from stepping into the saddle. He watched his brother hand Miss Malcolm up into the phaeton.
    “How wonderful!” replied Miss Ashbrook. “It’s been some time since you were…in the neighborhood.”
    “Quite,” said Henry curtly. He had called upon Squire Ashbrook on matters of business regularly in the old days. He barely remembered Miss Ashbrook, but then, if she was Adele’s age, she would have still been in the schoolroom.
    Stephen noticed his friend’s growing irritation. “I say, Miss Ashbrook,” he said, physically placing himself between Henry and the overeager damsel, “what games are the young ladies of Sussex familiar with? Perhaps we can hit upon something that we all know to play tomorrow night….”
    Henry seized his chance to disappear. He strode over to his horse and, climbing into the saddle, spurred the beast onward to catch up with the pair in the phaeton.
    * * *
    Eliza had made up her mind. She was decidedly uncomfortable having Rufus Rowland take such liberties with her person. He was sitting far too closely on the phaeton seat, and squished up into the corner, she had no way of escaping him. She hoped her parents would be following soon in the coach…or Adele and Mr. Blount…or anyone.
    As they turned the bend in the road, she heard hooves pounding behind them. It was a single rider, not a carriage. Within moments, the rider had come up