The Reluctant Escort. Mary Nichols
Чтение книги онлайн.
Читать онлайн книгу The Reluctant Escort - Mary Nichols страница 16
Название: The Reluctant Escort
Автор: Mary Nichols
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
isbn:
isbn:
Duncan was diverted. ‘And what would this Dark Knight do, if he were here now?’
‘Hold the man up. Take his ill-gotten gains from him and set his slaves free.’
‘That would be a crime,’ he said drily.
‘But justified, don’t you think? You could distribute his wealth to deserving people and prevent another cargo of poor black men, women and children being sold into slavery.’
‘Me?’ he queried in astonishment.
‘Why not?’
‘Miss Martineau, I abhor the trade as much as anyone and I support those who advocate its abolition, but that is not the way to bring it about.’
‘Oh, I did not think you were so pudding-hearted.’
‘Molly, I wish you would put the Dark Knight from your mind. The Dark Knight is not Robin of Locksley, nor yet Don Quixote.’
‘Indeed he is not, if he will not tilt at a few windmills.’
He laughed in spite of himself. ‘Oh, you will be the death of me.’
‘Oh, no, but you must admit you would like to do it.’
‘Indeed I should,’ he said. ‘But that is not to say I will.’
‘No, perhaps it would not be wise without Mr Upjohn to help you.’ She liked to tease as much as he did and was gratified when he rose to the bait. ‘I think we should have waited at the Crosskeys and not come here without him.’
‘Do you? I recollect you wanted to go shopping.’
‘That was your idea. I did not ask to go.’
‘You could not go to London dressed in nothing but a filthy riding habit.’
‘No, but I was not in such haste that I would want you to abandon your friend.’
‘I have not abandoned him. He is well able to look after himself, which is more than can be said for you, who are young and vulnerable and whose head is filled with fantasy.’
‘My head is not filled with fantasy. You do not know me very well or you would know I am a very practical kind of person.’
‘Is that so?’ He smiled for the first time for over an hour. ‘I have seen no evidence of it so far.’
‘Then I will prove it. I shall come back with you. We may well meet them on the way.’
‘Not so long ago you were of the opinion we would run into greater trouble going back than going forward.’
‘I am sure you are clever enough to avoid anyone searching for you if you go carefully, and I am not afraid of a little adventure.’
‘No, that I had noted. And not above inciting a man to crime either.’
‘Oh, that,’ she said airily. ‘I was bamming. But you must allow that you are troubled about Mr Upjohn.’
He sighed heavily, admitting she was right. He was worried and his conscience was troubling him. Frank must be in trouble or else Martha was proving difficult. But if that were the case Frank would have come on without her.
If it were not for Molly he would not have hesitated, but if it were not for her he would not have been in this predicament in the first place. He was not at all sure he liked being so accountable for another human being, and one who was so artless. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘We will go back, but only as far as the Crosskeys. He may be there.’
He rose from the table, leaving Molly to scramble under it in search of her shoes which she had kicked off.
‘Now what?’ he asked in exasperation.
‘Nothing. I am simply looking for my shoes. They were tight and…Oh, there they are.’ She bent to retrieve them and squeezed her white-stockinged feet back into them, to his unfeigned amusement. ‘It will be a relief to go back to my riding boots.’
She went up to their rooms to change while he gave orders for Molly’s new trunk to be kept for them when it arrived, and then they set off on horseback, retracing the route they had covered that morning, meeting a little traffic—a coach or two, several loaded haycarts, people on horseback and on foot—but not the curricle.
‘Where are we going now?’ she asked him when he’d returned from questioning the innkeeper at the Crosskeys and been told his friend had not returned there.
‘To his home. We’ll find out if he reached it.’
‘How far is that?’
‘An hour’s ride. Are you tired? Do you want to rest?’
‘No. I can keep up, never fear.’
They had been riding for perhaps an hour and were passing through a wooded area, when they came upon the curricle. It was tipped on its side in the ditch beside the road and there was evidence of a struggle, but of Frank or Martha there was no sign. Nor could they find the horse, though they stopped and searched the area.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.