Page 3 of The Pleasure in Persuasion

The inn was small and undeniably charming with its whitewashed brick and thatched roof; the windows trimmed a cheerful spring green in complement to the flowering bushes and potted ferns framing the oak door at the entrance. Maples flanked either side of the inn, their changing leaves a gorgeous blend of oranges, reds and yellows that only added to the property’s charm.

“Thank you for your help, sir,” Blythe’s owner said briskly as she paused at the edge of the road and turned to face him. “Your kindness, though unsolicited, is appreciated, and I suppose you deserve a reward for it. May I offer you a mug of ale for your trouble?”

Frederick bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, both amused by the begrudging offer and surprised she’d even made it.

“Why do you dislike me?” The query leaped from his tongue with child-like impulsiveness, and though he hadn’t planned to ask it, he didn’t regret doing so. He wanted to know.

“I—what?” Her jaw had slackened, and she stared at him, clearly caught off guard. “That is an odd question, sir. I do not even know you.”

Frederick nodded. “I know. Yet you disliked me from the first moment we met. Rather unfair of you, don’t you think?”

She pressed her lips together, and her turquoise eyes took on a speculative glint, as if an internal debate waged within her: Should she give this stranger a polite reply or an honest one?

Tipping her chin up, she met his gaze. “Do not take it personally,” she said. “I dislike all handsome young men of means.”

Well. Right. Evidently she’d decided on honesty. The obvious question begging to be asked was why she disliked handsome young men of means, but Frederick could not resist teasing her instead.

“You think I’m handsome?” he asked, arching one eyebrow.

She arched both, her lips twisting. “Not as handsome as you find yourself, I think.”

He smiled. “But you do find me handsome.”

A beat of silence followed and then she shrugged. “Yes, I suppose I do. But I assure you, that is no compliment. In my experience, handsome men think they can get away with anything. And they usually do.”

Again, Frederick wondered what had made her so cynical, but she was a stranger to him, and her past was none of his business, so he ignored his curiosity. “Thank you for the offer of ale, but I really must be on my way.”

The relief in her eyes amused him, even as it inspired the perverse desire to tell her he’d changed his mind, that he would have that drink, if only to see what she would do.

Alas, he was running late, and he would never hear the end of it if Penelope learned he’d dilly-dallied over a mug of ale.

“Thank you again, sir,” she replied, slipping the length of rope from his hand. “Blythe and I both wish you a good journey.”

She turned toward the inn, and Frederick watched her go, her strides economical yet elegant as she slowly guided Blythe the rest of the way home.

With astonishing reluctance, he headed for his carriage, and as they set off, still she lingered on his mind, this woman he’d just met, and he couldn’t make sense of it.

She was ungracious, unfriendly, and wholly uncharmable.

So why the devil was he so intrigued by her? And why did he regret that he had not learned her name?