The Secret Life of Miss Anna Marsh by Ella Quinn

this one?” the stable owner had asked. “I’ll take ten shillings off the price.”
    Harry had glanced at the showy bay gelding. He was too short in the back and would probably throw a splint. “No, I’ll take the black, thanks, and a saddle.”
    The stable owner had nodded. “Well, I’ll say this for you. You know your horseflesh. I’ll have everything you need brought round to the inn.”
    Harry had thanked the man and gone to the store that sold guns. Though his eye had been drawn to a fine pair of dueling pistols, he had picked a larger coaching one, checking to ensure all was in order with it. Then his attention had been caught by a dagger. “I’d like to see that as well.”
    The shopkeeper had brought it out and handed it to Harry. The weight of the dagger felt comfortable in his hand. “I’ll take it.”
    He had instinctively hidden it in his boot, and wondered what kind of gentleman he’d been. Knowledge of guns and horses was one thing, but a dagger?
    Early the next morning, Harry thanked his host and rode out of town east toward Bournemouth, where he’d spend the night.
    Late that afternoon, on the outskirts of town, he came upon a yellow chaise stopped to the side of the road. Two women stood next to the carriage. Harry reined in next to them.
    He directed his question to the older woman. “What seems to be the problem?”
    The younger woman glanced at him and replied, “Our wheeler has lost a shoe, and we’re stuck here until help comes.”
    Harry judged her to be in her midtwenties; she was on the tall side, with pale honey curls peeping from beneath her hat. Her nose was small and straight, and she was considering him appraisingly.
    â€œI see.” He tore his gaze away from her mesmerizing turquoise eyes and directed it toward the coach. “Has anyone been sent for help?”
    â€œYes, one of the outriders.” She looked down the road toward the town as if she could make help appear. “Someone should be here soon.”
    â€œIf you’re sure.” Harry wasn’t happy with what he saw. “I’ll tell you what, when I get to my inn, I’ll have someone sent to you. Just to be sure.”
    The older lady took the younger one’s arm. “That is a very nice offer, don’t you think?”
    The young lady glanced up at him. “Thank you very much, sir. I’m certain we’ll be fine, but I won’t refuse your help.”
    Harry inclined his head. “I’d consider it my pleasure.”
    He took off at a trot, then urged the horse faster, and quickly discovered galloping made him feel free. A memory hovered of salt air and cliffs. Drat , if it would just come back all at once.
    A short time later, Harry arrived at the Admiral, a posting house situated on the edge of Bournemouth. He immediately made arrangements to send an ostler off with a wheeler. That evening, while he was enjoying dinner in the common room, the younger of the two ladies from the carriage came up to him. “I wanted to express my thanks to you for your help today.”
    Harry stood and smiled politely. “My pleasure. I’m sure any gentleman would have done the same.”
    She stuck out her hand. “I am Miss Emeline Spencer-Jones. I suppose it is appropriate to introduce myself.” She glanced briefly around. “Under the circumstances, that is.”
    Harry hid a grin and surveyed the other customers. “I think you’re right. There doesn’t seem to be anyone to perform a proper introduction.”
    He took her hand and shook it.
    Miss Spencer-Jones’s face fell.
    â€œIs there something wrong?” he asked.
    â€œWell,” she replied, blushing slightly, “I was told that in England a gentleman kisses a lady’s hand.”
    Harry bent his head so she wouldn’t see him grin and kissed her hand. “Is that more what you were