The Sweet and Spicy Regency Collection by Dorothy McFalls Page B

refuse.”
    May cast a silent plea in Aunt Winnie’s direction. The older woman yawned into her hand and mumbled something about wanting to nap all day.
    Lord Nathan even joined in the persuasions with a tempting offer to treat all the women to chocolates on the way.
    Only the willowy Lady Lillian supported May’s reasonable decision. “La, let her stay, Iona. It is her occupation to care for Lady Winifred, is it not? We should not pretend she is something other than what she is.”
    “And what is that?” Iona was quick to inquire, though there had been no need. May had recognized early on how most society ladies treated her no differently than a servant.
    Aunt Winnie rose from her chair and quieted the room with a single clap of her hands. “May, you spend too much time with ladies and gentlemen far older than yourself. It is unhealthy. A young gel needs the companionship of fellow youngsters. You will go.”
    Not even Lady Lillian dared object to such a royally presented command. She turned up her nose before latching onto Lord Nathan’s arm again.
    “You weren’t teasing, my lord, were you?” she cooed after saying her farewells to Aunt Winnie. “You will treat us to chocolates?”
    Lord Nathan murmured some placating words and let himself be led from the room.
    May kissed her aunt on the cheek and promised not to stay away long while Iona hurried May out of the parlor in pursuit of Lord Nathan and Lillian.
    Since the decision had been taken out of her hands, and it would have been rude to disagree with her aunt, May decided to enjoy the afternoon outing . . . even if it meant risking her untested heart.

Chapter 9
    Radford eyed the cane sitting on his tiger maple desk in the study and brooded while waiting for Bannor to arrive. He had so many reasons to feel anxious. His stable manager was due to arrive within the hour so Radford could see firsthand the young filly he’d purchased from the Duke of Grafton, for one thing. The filly would only stay in Bath for a few days before the stable manager returned home to his stables in Northhamptonshire.
    Ever since the accident, Radford had avoided his horses. He even left the sole care of the pair of playful and perfectly matched grays he used for his carriage to the capable hands of the young groom he’d brought with him to Bath. So today his eagerness to finally meet this new horse, bred from one of his own stallions, was tinged with bittersweet anticipation. How would it feel to see her and know he would never be the one to ride her? He would never again learn a horse’s personality firsthand in the vast fields and woods of his estate.
    Such concerns were reason enough to brood. Why then did he insist on blaming the stubborn Miss Sheffers for the bulk of his nerves?
    On the way down Beechen Cliff, she had insisted he use her as a prop. Her, a dainty woman, no less! He’d been humiliated. Mortified. Never should a man be so betrayed by his body that he’d be compelled to depend on a woman.
    Ah . . . but her assistance had lessened the sharp pains worrying his calf and foot. That couldn’t possibly be the reason he’d spent the past fifteen minutes studying his cane, could it?
    “You wouldn’t push a horse with a lame leg,” he grumbled to himself. A horse needed time and a goodly amount of pampering to heal. He spared no expense to coddle his horses to keep them healthy. So if he knew what it took to heal an injury, why should a woman’s scolding be necessary?
    That stubborn and utterly forgettable elf-like creature had called him foolish. She’d gone beyond that and proved his own foolishness by insisting he lean on her arm.
    He was no horse, but he was flesh and blood just the same. May was right. If he wanted to heal he’d need to take the expense and pamper himself for a while.
    Damnation! He must be a fool . . . for he wanted nothing more than to send for her and lavish poetic sentiments of gratitude on her dainty head. Worse, he dearly wished to