"Nonsense," Bess exclaimed. "I can't believe Lord Dorring is so muddle-brained as this. He knows you'll never get another offer this good if ye live to be a hundred."

"I'm not so certain of that," Sophy said dryly. "It depends, of course, on your definition of a good offer."

Bess's gaze narrowed thoughtfully. "Child, are ye doin' this because yer afraid of the Earl? Is that what's wrong? I thought ye were too sensible to believe all the stories they tell down in the village."

"I do not believe them all," Sophy said as she swung herself into the saddle. "Only about half. Does that console you, Bess?" Sophy adjusted the skirts of her habit under her legs. She rode astride, although it was not considered quite proper for a woman of her station to do so. In the country, however, people were more casual about such matters. In any event Sophy was convinced her modesty was well protected. With her habit carefully arranged this way only her tan half-boots showed beneath the skirts.

Bess caught hold of the horse's bridle and peered up at Sophy. "Here now, girl. Ye don't truly believe that tale they tell about his lordship drownin' his first wife in Ravenwood Pond, do ye?"

Sophy sighed. "No, Bess, I do not." It would have been more accurate to say she did not want to believe it.

"Thank the lord, although it be God's truth there ain't none around here who'd have blamed the man if he had killed her," Bess admitted.

"True enough, Bess."

"Then what's all this nonsense about ye refusin' his lordship's offer? I don't care for the look in yer eyes, child. I've seen it before and it don't bode well. What are ye up to now?"

"Now? Why, now I am going to ride old Dancer here back to Chesley Court and then I am going to set about storing these herbs you have so kindly given me. Grandfather's gout is acting up again and I have run out of his favorite decoction."