Read an Extract
 The
wide grey eyes stared at him, then, disconcertingly, she coloured
deeply. Now that had he said? Surely a lady willing
to go with a stranger on trust was not going to baulk at being
carried through a snowdrift?
‘Ma’am?’
The previously assured figure before him seemed to shrink
back into herself. ‘My lord, I should tell you…I
am five foot ten and one quarter inches tall.’
It might, after all, be better to spend days shut up in the
Cock rather than face the shame of being lugged through the
snow like a sack of coals. It would probably take both
men to achieve it. No previous humiliation lived up
to the prospect of this. Obviously the viscount had
no idea when he suggested the scheme that he was dealing with
a lady who was freakishly tall.
Adam Grantham was looking serious, although it was difficult
to read his expression through the swirling snow. ‘Indeed,
ma’am? I am six foot three. And one-half,’
he added after a moment’s thought. ‘I would
be charmed to stand here all day exchanging shoe, glove and
hat sizes, but I really feel we should be making a start.’
‘But you misunderstand me, my lord…’
His expression changed to one of chagrin. ‘You
mean you think me incapable of carrying you, Miss Ross?
I have to say I resent that slur upon my manhood.’
Completely thrown into disarray, Decima hastened to reassure
him. ‘Lord Weston, I did not for a moment mean
to imply any lack of strength on your part -‘
There was a muffled choke of laughter from Pru behind her
and Decima realised she was being teased. Teased
about her height! Why, no one did that, no one considered
it grounds for anything but the deepest shame and gloom. |
