As Hester rose to face the intruder, she became aware that she had been mistaken in one of her assumptions. Though he was tall, the man was not extraordinarily large. It was his barely controlled fury that made it seem as though he were looming over her. Actually, if it were not for his expression of disdainful wrath, he would have been considered handsome. He was dressed in the height of fashion, from the top of his curly-brimmed beaver to the soles of his blindingly polished Hessian boots. His hair, dark as midnight, waved lightly over his collar and his brows were slashes of jet over eyes that were also of a pure, flinty black. At the moment, they fairly glittered in the slanting rays of the afternoon sun. The stranger paused to stand directly before Hester. “Did you not hear me?” he demanded. “I am in a hurry, girl. I wish to speak to your mistress.” Taking a deep breath, Hester spoke pleasantly. “Well, I am in no hurry at all. In addition, I am not a girl, sir, and I am mistress here.
