“You are too sanguine. We had better turn our heads away and trust to his not recognizing us.”
“A man not recognize his own horses!” said Miss Taverner scornfully. “Oh, you are laughing at me! You are quite abominable!”
At the first sound of the curricle’s approach the Earl had raised his head and glanced casually up the lane. He was in the middle of making a civil inquiry into the health of his tenant’s family, but he broke off abruptly. The farmer followed the direction of his eyes, and said in no little surprise: “Why, here come your lordship’s greys, or I’m much mistaken!”
“You are not mistaken,” said the Earl grimly, and wheeled his mare across the lane.
Miss Taverner, observing this manoeuvre,, said: “There! You see! We shall have to stop.”
“I see no necessity. Drop your hands and drive over him.”
Miss Taverner threw him a look of withering contempt and checked her horses. In another minute the curricle had pulled up alongside the Earl, and Miss Taverner was meeting his gaze with an expression half of defiance, half of apology, in her blue eyes. “I am taking your brother for a drive, Lord Worth,” she said.
“So I see,” replied the Earl. “It was very civil of you to pull up to greet me, but you must not let me be detaining you.”
Miss Taverner eyed him doubtfully. “You must wonder at it, but—”
“Not at all,” said the Earl. “The only thing I wonder at is that you are not driving my chestnuts.”