The page I'm reading now...

He was surprised, even a little annoyed at her silence. He looked sideways at her profile. A woman in her early thirties perhaps, neatly dressed and at some expense. She could never, even in her first bloom of youth, have been very beautiful. Her face was a little too long, and a little too narrow. Her carriage and neat figure suggested good health and habits, however.  Her gloved hands rested easily on the reins and her hair was a dark red, curled under the edge of her riding hat.
      'Do you like it?' she asked. 'My maid Dido always rejoices when I agree to have my hair curled. I find it gets in my eyes.'
      Crowther started, and faced forward at once. 'My apologies, madam. I did not mean to stare.'
      She turned to him, looking at him squarely for a moment or two, then smiled. Crowther noted the dark green of her eyes, was surprised to find himself wondering briefly what she might think of him.
      'No, I am sorry, Mr. Crowther,' she said. 'And I must thank you for riding out so early. I have been wondering what to say to you, and I'm sorry to confess that nothing that seems appropriate has occurred to me. I could ask you what you think the weather will be today and how you are enjoying Hartswood, but it hardly seems fitting, given our expedition. So I waited until I had the opportunity to be rude to you instead.'

-- from Instruments of Darkness, by Imogen Robertson

I'm charmed by the story behind this first novel -- that the author won a First Thousand Words of a Novel competition with the opening pages.  They've definitely drawn me in.

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