And if it were his battle wounds that Lady Hornsby wanted to criticize . . . Well, Joshua didn’t deserve to be judged by his lameness, though clearly he expected such, because he wore that stony stare designed to keep people at arm’s length.
“Lady Hornsby,” Gwyn said hastily, “this is Major Joshua Wolfe. He’s Mama’s nephew by marriage.”
To Gwyn’s relief, the countess smiled like a cat in the cream. “So this is the gentleman hired to be Gwyn’s bodyguard. I can see he will make a charming addition to our party.”
When she looked him over again with more interest, Gwyn gaped at her. Wait, was sheflirtingwith Joshua? Why, she had to be twice his age!
And Joshua clearly was aware of the woman’s flirtations, for he relaxed his rigid stance. “I can assure you, Lady Hornsby—no one has ever called me charming.”
“Except me,” Gwyn said.
He met her gaze, his rare smile sending a delicious frisson down her spine. “Forgive me, Lady Gwyn, but you called me ‘almostcharming.’ There’s a vast ocean between that and ‘charming.’”
Gwyn felt the weight of her mother’s gaze on her. “True. And that’s because I see you surly more often than not.”
“Surly is my middle name, I confess,” he said. “So let me attempt to amend my ways and compliment you on your attire.” Before she could do more than smile, he added, “It has more gold braid across the front than I have on my entire uniform.”
“Major!” Gwyn cried, torn between laughing and chiding him. “Except for the color, this is a virtual copy of one worn by the Queen of Prussia. It’s Hussar braiding, which you, of all people, should recognize.”
“I believe you are confused, madam. I’m not a Hussar. I’m a Royal Marine. Hussars serve atop horses. Marines serve aboard ships. They are hardly the same branch of the military.”
“I wasn’t saying they—” She caught the twinkle in his eyes and huffed out a breath. “You’re teasing me. That is so unlike you, sir.”
Clearly, he could barely contain his mirth, for his lips twitched. “I did say I wished to amend my ways.”
“Mocking me is not a good way to start.”
“Very well.” He bowed slightly. “You look exceedingly lovely this morning, Lady Gwyn, gold braid or no gold braid. Forgive me for implying otherwise.”
Then he turned to Lady Hornsby. “I’m pleased to have met you, madam. Now, if you’ll excuse me and Lady Gwyn, I promised to take her riding this morning, and I’m already late for that engagement.”
“I would not wish to keep either of you,” the countess said, a new gleam in her eyes. “And Gwyn, I cannot imagine why you don’t find the major charming. He seems perfectly delightful to me.”
That was because Lady Hornsby had never seen Joshua rude or insulting or overbearing.
Mama was still searching Gwyn’s face. “Where’s your maid, Gwyn?”
“One of the grooms is accompanying us, Aunt,” Joshua said.
“I suppose that’s fine, then,” her mother said. “Just be sure to be back in time for Bea and Grey’s visit. I’m hoping to persuade them to stay for dinner.”
“Yes, Mama,” Gwyn said.
She headed for the door, not wanting to wait one minute longer for her lessons in shooting. After bowing to the two ladies, Joshua followed her out.
“What has put you in such a good mood this morning?” she asked him as they headed down the steps. “It’s not like you at all.”
“Are you sure?” he drawled. “Lady Hornsby said I’m ‘perfectly delightful.’”
“What she means is she would find it ‘perfectly delightful’ to have you in her bed,” Gwyn said dryly.
Joshua turned a sharp gaze on her. “You’re not serious.”
“Oh, trust me, she is famous for taking young lovers now that her husband is gone.” And up until this moment, Gwyn had rather admired her for it. Why shouldn’t an older woman take young lovers? “The countess has a particular fondness for officers—Hussar and otherwise. Or so I’ve heard anyway.”
“Hmm,” he said lazily. “Forgive me, but I’d say you sound jealous.”
“And I’d say you’re daft.” She sniffed as she walked down the steps. “I don’t care whom you bed, Joshua. It’s all the same to me if you bed half the widows in London.”
