“Pooh, nobody will recognize me.” She pulled out a man’s cap and crammed it on her head, tucking in her hair, which was short anyway. She tugged the bill down, almost over her eyes. “See? Now come on.” She put an end to the argument by trotting out into the street.

He pursed his lips but followed, looking gloomier than ever.

“Have you ever ridden with a sidesaddle, Kirk?”

He didn’t bother answering, just gave her an expressive look.

“No, of course not. And why is that? For all that men tell us that sidesaddles are soooo much better for ladies and are as safe as houses, you won’t get a man on one—and why? Because they’re silly, that’s why. And it takes more skill to ride with them, not less, because sidesaddle you only have the reins and your crop and your balance, whereas astride you can control your mount with your thighs as well—”

“Lady Georgiana!” Kirk said in a pained voice.

George hid a grin. She’d forgotten; ladies didn’t have thighs, or if they did they weren’t to be mentioned.

“So if I want a really good ride, it has to be astride,” she finished. There was nothing better than to ride at a fast gallop, bent low over her horse’s neck, the wind in her face, and the feeling of being at one with the powerful animal beneath her. Bareback was even better—it was how she’d first learned to ride—but she wasn’t even going to try for that. Not in London. But one day, when she was free . . .

It wasn’t as if she disliked her current life. Not really. She didn’t much like London, with hundreds—thousands—of people living almost on top of her—or so it felt. And she didn’t like the dirt and smells. Why was it that London dirt seemed so much worse than country dirt?

And London noise never stopped. Even at night there were rumbling wheels, shouts, bangs and arguments, and though the country was also full of noise at night—the scream of a vixen, the hooting of an owl, the far-off barking of a dog—they were peaceful noises.

But there were things she liked about this life. Cal had initially dragged her into the family, kicking and fighting—she’d never had a family and was sure she didn’t need one—but to her amazement, she liked it, liked the feeling of belonging, liked the companionship of her aunts Lily and Rose, who were more like sisters. And her aunt by marriage, Emm, who was sister, friend and mother all rolled into one—Emm was a blessing. She’d even come to like Cal, bossy-boots that he was.

The great-aunts—well, Aunt Dottie was a darling, but she could do without Aunt Agatha. How dare she offer her up to that cold, snooty duke?