An Affair with Mr. Kennedy Read Online Free PDF Page B

eye, as he lifted himself onto his saddle, he caught her inspecting his backside. Hard in an instant, he sat cautiously so as not to cause himself injury.
    “You live on Lyall Street, Mr. Kennedy?”
    Adjusting his reins, he met her gaze. “I am your next-door neighbor, Mrs. St. Cloud.”
    “MY GIVEN NAME is Cassandra, but you may call me Cassie.” She reined Daisy off a narrow horse trail and onto the wide dirt track of Rotten Row.
    She caught a raised brow from her neighbor. “Are you always so informal, Mrs. St. Cloud?” What a cold, taciturn impression he made, speaking in clipped tones with a frown on his face. She concluded he must not recognize this disagreeable behavior in himself.
    “Perhaps you should call me by my title, then. The dowager Lady Rosslyn. Much more starchy and impersonal. Are you always so stiff, Mr. Kennedy?”
    The curl at the ends of his mouth seemed to indicate he was amused. “According to a colleague of mine, I need to foster a more congenial side to my acerbic nature. All work and no play, I’m afraid. Perhaps you can help me improve on my charm … a bit of advice?”
    An honest evaluation, delivered with a large dose of sarcasm. Still, she smiled. “I don’t believe there are charm schools for gentlemen who lack … charm, Mr. Kennedy.”
    Stealing a glance at the man riding beside her, she noted an imperfectly perfect nose positioned above a delicious wide-set mouth, his most expressive facial feature. In the short distance from mews to park, he had demonstrated a few subtle variations of a masterful frown. A smile from this gent, should she ever see one, might cause her complete discomposure.
    “Then I will require private lessons. You have my permission to school me in the finer points of the winsome personality.” The tensing of his mouth and the quirk of a brow intimated curiosity and something else. He enjoyed taunting her.
    “Generally, people who cultivate charm enjoy using the familiar. The use of a person’s first name, for example, is an engaging gesture. And I still prefer Cassie, even if you do not.”
    He continued to appear nonplussed. “Ah yes, an agreeable personality is certain to win one friends.”
    She could not restrain a flicker of eye roll. “If you were to use my first name, how might I then be allowed to refer to you, Mr. Kennedy? Theoretically?”
    His gaze darted across park scenery to meet hers. “There are a few colleagues or acquaintances,” he ventured, his voice laden with irony, “who call me Zak—an acronym, of my initials.”
    “Zeno …” She bit her lip. “ Angus Kennedy?”
    He narrowed his eyes. “ Augustus Kennedy.”
    “My, my, you do have clever friends, even if there are so few of them.”
    Was that a growl or a harrumph from the man? She grinned. “That sort of grousing is only endearing from a great-uncle in need of an afternoon nap.” Cassie guided her horse onto a narrow path and glanced back. “A charm pointer, Mr. Kennedy.”
    They rode quietly past the Albert Memorial, Victoria’s impressive epitaph to her most beloved husband.
    “I always feel obliged to recite some sort of eulogy whenever I pass by here.” Her landlord tilted his head. “Ah, here’s one.
     
“Near this spot
are deposited the remains of one
who possessed beauty without vanity,
Strength without insolence,
Courage without ferocity,
and all the virtues of man without his vices.”
     
    She recognized the poem. “You quote Byron’s ‘Epitaph to a Dog.’”
    “I’m afraid our departed prince consort will have to make do with the only epitaph I have set to memory. A poet’s tribute to his beloved pet.” He nudged his mount up alongside hers and flashed a hint of a smile. It nearly took her breath away. “My uncle gave me a Newfoundland as a lad.”
    She couldn’t resist a tease. “And I suppose you named your dog Boatswain after Byron, as well?”
    “Not terribly original, I admit.” His scoff added a nice touch of humility. “Boat