he'd gone. He was getting damn cold, although it was an unseasonably warm afternoon. There was no getting around the fact that it was late February, after all.
Lap Seng whickered softly and pricked up his fine ears. Simon stopped pacing and listened. In the distance he heard he sound of a horse trotting down the lane.
"About time," he growled as he remounted. Then he frowned as he heard Emily's voice lifted high in a cheerful, off-key song sung at full volume.
"What good is a man, now, I ask you, kind ladies? If we had any sense, we would send them to Hades. They say there's a use for each creature, e'en leeches, But to discover the use of men, my dears, A woman must look in their breeches."
In spite of his foul mood, Simon found himself grinning. Apparently the members of the society had gotten into something a bit stronger than weak tea after his departure.
He tightened the reins and urged Lap Seng out of the trees and into the center of the road. He was ready a moment later when Emily's dappled gray came bouncing around the bend.
Emily did not see him at first. She was concentrating too intently on her bawdy song. Her spectacles sparkled in the sunlight and her red curls bobbed in time to her tune. Simon was seized with a sudden desire to know what that mass of fiery hair would look like if it were unpinned and allowed to fall around her shoulders.
"Damn it to hell," he muttered under his breath as he waited for Emily to realize he was directly in her path. The last thing he wanted to do was find himself physically attracted to the woman. He needed to keep a clear head for what he intended. Cold-blooded revenge required coldblooded thinking.
"Good afternoon, Miss Faringdon."
With a startled expression Emily brought her horse to a shambling halt. "My lord, what on earth are you doing here?" Her face was flushed and there was anxious alarm in her elfin eyes. "Did you lose your way? The Gillinghams are directly over that little rise. You merely turn left at the stream and go straight up the hill."
"Thank you," Simon said. "But I assure you, I am not lost. I was waiting for you. I had begun to fear you had taken another route home."
She looked at him blankly. "But you said you were expected back early at the Gillinghams."
"I confess that was an excuse to enable me to leave early. I received the distinct impression my presence was having a dampening effect upon the good ladies of the literary society."
Emily blinked owlishly. "I fear you are right, my lord. We are not accustomed to entertaining dragons—" she looked horrified and immediately tried to recover, "I mean, earls on Thursday afternoon."
"A dragon, hmm? Is that how you see me, Miss Faringdon?"
"Oh, no, my lord," she assured him quickly. "Well, perhaps there is a faint resemblance about the eyes."
Simon smiled grimly. "What about the teeth?"
"Only the smallest degree of similarity. But it does not signify, I assure you, my lord. You are exactly as I had pictured you from your letters."
Simon exhaled slowly, holding on to his patience with a savage grip. "Would you care to walk with me for a ways? We have much to discuss."
"We do?"
"Of course. We are old friends, are we not?"
"We are?"
"Correct me if I am mistaken, Miss Faringdon, but I had the impression we have been corresponding for several months."
She was instantly flustered. "Oh, yes, my lord. We most certainly have. Definitely." Emily's red curls bounced beneath her bonnet as she nodded her head in swift agreement. "I feel I have known you for ages."
"The feeling is mutual."
"The thing is, I never expected to actually meet you in person."
"I see. What do you say to a stroll down by the stream?" Simon dismounted and strode determinedly toward her, leading Lap Seng.
She looked down at him with unconcealed longing. "I should like that very much, my lord, but I fear it would not be quite proper."
"Nonsense. Who will see us? And even if someone did notice us together, he can hardly complain