Miss Ryder's Memoirs Read Online Free Page B

such.” Nor does Robert. And I’m afraid I’m not all that knowledgeable myself, though certainly a great deal more than the two of them put together.
    Sir John laughed. “I hope you have no intention of interesting me in the crops when we make our little excursion,” he teased. “The grounds and the woods are much more to my taste.”
    I was sure of it. He probably thought he could get Amanda among the trees and ravish her. Well, perhaps not ravish her, but kiss her at least. I could see how his gaze remained on her full, pouty mouth. Why does a man think it famous to spend time with a pouty woman? My understanding of men is of the smallest, I daresay, but I have no respect for the ones who want a woman they can wrap about their fingers. That may be because no one could wrap me around his finger.
    Sir John agreed that he would like nothing better than to be taken through the grounds by Amanda—when he returned with his portmanteau and his carriage from the inn later that evening. Would he be with us to dine, Mama asked. Yes, he would certainly be here by then, he assured her. As he took his leave, he smiled kindly upon each of us, but I thought there was a slight twist to his lips when he looked at me, a rather sardonic twist.
    “I look forward to seeing you again soon,” he said. To my ears there was an undercurrent of mockery to his voice. No one else seemed to notice.
    I could hardly wait until he was out of the house before begging to see Robert’s letter. Mama dug it out of the deep pocket in her dress and straightened it out before handing it to me. “Your brother speaks very highly of Sir John,” she remarked. “I hope you will be pleasant to him.”
    “Pleasant? Of course I shall be pleasant to him. When am I anything but pleasant to anyone?”
    Amanda tittered and Mama gave a little puff of a laugh. Where they get this impression that I am rude or unfriendly, I can’t imagine, but I decided to pay no heed to them. The first order of business was to discover what information I could on this provocative stranger. Robert’s letter wasn’t much help:
     
    My dearest Mama,
    This letter will introduce Sir John Meddows to you. John is a great friend of mine, and an excellent judge of horseflesh. I’ve asked him to look out a pair for me for my phaeton while he’s in your area. He knew of the Overview stables, but not of Hinchly Farms, so he has a treat in store for himself. I’ve warned him not to let Catherine hoodwink him into buying her favorite animal, as she’s done to me so many times!
     
    And he should be grateful to me, the cad. I’ve never led him astray.
     
    My best to you and my sisters. Your letters are always welcome, though I’m afraid I’m a poor correspondent myself. Perhaps I’ll come down for opening day, but probably not. There’s much better shooting at Chelverton. Your loving son,
    Robert
     
    It was still more than a month until shooting season began and we’d hoped Robert would come down for Public Day in mid-July. He’d never missed one before, but then, Papa had been alive for all the others. Last year’s had been canceled because we were in mourning and I think all the neighbors and servants were looking forward to this one. I sighed and handed the letter back to Mama.
    “Have you asked him about coming down for Public Day?” I asked.
    “I’ve mentioned it in every letter for the last month,” she said with some asperity, “and, as you see, he makes no mention of it. Whatever can have gotten into the boy?”
    It was a rhetorical question. Not that any of us knew the answer. It occurred to me that Sir John might, though. And perhaps that was what Mama had in mind when she asked him to stay. Very clever of her. Keeping an eye on him would be my primary concern.
    I could manage that with a little perseverance. Sir John might not be willing to listen to my opinions about horses, but I was established, if only to his amusement, as the knowledgeable one in the family,