He glanced down at her rather mockingly. “Just to annoy you, Clorinda. The impulse was irresistible, believe me.”
She took refuge in silence again, for she could find no adequate words with which to answer him. She had never been spoken to so in her life; she was more than a little inclined to think him mad.
Grantham came into sight; in a few minutes the curricle drew up outside the George, and the first thing Miss Taverner saw was her brother’s face above the blind in one of the lower windows.
The gentleman descended from the curricle, and held up his hand for her to take. “Do smile!” he said.
Miss Taverner allowed him to help her down, but preserved an icy front. She swept into the inn ahead of him, and nearly collided with Peregrine, hurrying out to meet her.
“Judith! What the devil?” exclaimed Peregrine. “Has there been an accident?”
“Judith,” repeated the gentleman of the curricle pensively. “I prefer Clorinda.”
“No,” said Judith. “Nothing of the sort. This—gentleman—constrained me to ride in his carriage, that is all.”
“Constrained you!” Peregrine took a hasty step forward.
She was sorry to have said so much, and added at once: “Do not let us be standing here talking about it! I think he is mad.”