Read Online Anita Mills by Miss Gordon's Mistake - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Miss Gordon's Mistake
Ads: Link
was your coachman doing during the robbery?” he wondered.
“I suspect he was attempting not to be noticed. They did not seem particularly interested in him, anyway,” she recalled. “But after I shouted that John was shot, he applied the whip, fleeing while they were still in disarray. No doubt they were more interested in the money than in us, anyway, don’t you think?”
“Undoubtedly.” He took a bite of his sausage and leaned back to watch her as he chewed. “You are a remarkable woman, Mrs. Smith.”
She wondered if he meant her story or herself, but she chose to brazen it through. “John likes to think so. But then, I never was a dieaway miss.” She met his gaze wide-eyed. “I am afraid ’tis all there is to the tale, sir. I do not think I could identify anyone.”
“Yes, well—we can hope that your coachman or your husband can give a better description.”
“John does not recall much—the wound, you know.”
“Burke tells me ’twas a near thing—a trifle lower and— well, shouldn’t speak of that, I suppose. Suffice it to say that he is fortunate ’twas only blood he lost.” Perceiving that perhaps he touched upon her fears, he forced an encouraging smile. “A few days and he’ll be up and about, I daresay,” he added heartily. “Well, finish your food, ma’am. Soon as mine’s done, I shall go up to see Smith.”
She happened to glance out the paned window behind him, and what she saw almost made her heart stop. “Uh—” She pushed away from the table and started to rise. “I really think I ought to tend to him, sir—to make certain he is presentable.”
“Nonsense! Told you I was a soldier, didn’t I? He won’t be the first fellow I’ve seen in this condition, I assure you! Best eat—need your strength for the task of caring for the fellow.”
“Yes—well, I cannot say that I have the appetite this morning, sir. If you will pardon me …”
It was then that he noted her pallor, and reluctantly he rose also. “Forget what ’tis like for the females, don’t I? Ought to ask your pardon for bringing up such things, but business, you know,” he murmured apologetically.
“It has been oversetting,” she agreed. “Even I must own that. I thought I’d lost John, you see.”
“Blood can be replaced—just takes time to make more of it. Daresay he’ll be up and about in a matter of days, ma’am.”
Behind him, her carriage moved slowly toward the corner of the innyard. “Yes, well—I really must look in on John,” she murmured. Extending her hand, she added hastily, “So good of you to come, sir—I hope you will discover the culprits.”
He held her hand a trifle overlong, bowing over it gallantly while she wished him at Jericho. “Smith’s a fortunate fellow, my dear,” he told her.
“You are too kind.” She retrieved her fingers, trying not to betray her panic. “Do finish your breakfast, sir—I am sure Smith is going nowhere in his condition, after all.”
“Course he ain’t—be abed a few days. You tell him I shall be up directly, will you?”
She made good her escape, slipping not up the stairs but rather out the front door of the establishment. And once outside, she broke into a most unladylike run, lifting the hem of her ruined gown as though a few mud spatters would matter. Around her, the men in the yard turned to watch and grin, but she was beyond caring about that.
Breathless, she found her carriage standing just beyond the main roadway. Wrenching open the door furiously, she discovered the baron inside. Without waiting for Jem, she threw her body into the coach, ripping the seam of her narrow skirt.
“Of all the awful things to do!” she rounded on Haverhill. “I should have looked the veriest fool—and worse! What was I supposed to say when my wounded husband disappeared?”
“Wasn’t disappearing.” He leaned back, his face pale beneath the auburn hair that fell over his forehead. “Sent Jem to tell you.” He shifted
“I suspect he was attempting not to be noticed. They did not seem particularly interested in him, anyway,” she recalled. “But after I shouted that John was shot, he applied the whip, fleeing while they were still in disarray. No doubt they were more interested in the money than in us, anyway, don’t you think?”
“Undoubtedly.” He took a bite of his sausage and leaned back to watch her as he chewed. “You are a remarkable woman, Mrs. Smith.”
She wondered if he meant her story or herself, but she chose to brazen it through. “John likes to think so. But then, I never was a dieaway miss.” She met his gaze wide-eyed. “I am afraid ’tis all there is to the tale, sir. I do not think I could identify anyone.”
“Yes, well—we can hope that your coachman or your husband can give a better description.”
“John does not recall much—the wound, you know.”
“Burke tells me ’twas a near thing—a trifle lower and— well, shouldn’t speak of that, I suppose. Suffice it to say that he is fortunate ’twas only blood he lost.” Perceiving that perhaps he touched upon her fears, he forced an encouraging smile. “A few days and he’ll be up and about, I daresay,” he added heartily. “Well, finish your food, ma’am. Soon as mine’s done, I shall go up to see Smith.”
She happened to glance out the paned window behind him, and what she saw almost made her heart stop. “Uh—” She pushed away from the table and started to rise. “I really think I ought to tend to him, sir—to make certain he is presentable.”
“Nonsense! Told you I was a soldier, didn’t I? He won’t be the first fellow I’ve seen in this condition, I assure you! Best eat—need your strength for the task of caring for the fellow.”
“Yes—well, I cannot say that I have the appetite this morning, sir. If you will pardon me …”
It was then that he noted her pallor, and reluctantly he rose also. “Forget what ’tis like for the females, don’t I? Ought to ask your pardon for bringing up such things, but business, you know,” he murmured apologetically.
“It has been oversetting,” she agreed. “Even I must own that. I thought I’d lost John, you see.”
“Blood can be replaced—just takes time to make more of it. Daresay he’ll be up and about in a matter of days, ma’am.”
Behind him, her carriage moved slowly toward the corner of the innyard. “Yes, well—I really must look in on John,” she murmured. Extending her hand, she added hastily, “So good of you to come, sir—I hope you will discover the culprits.”
He held her hand a trifle overlong, bowing over it gallantly while she wished him at Jericho. “Smith’s a fortunate fellow, my dear,” he told her.
“You are too kind.” She retrieved her fingers, trying not to betray her panic. “Do finish your breakfast, sir—I am sure Smith is going nowhere in his condition, after all.”
“Course he ain’t—be abed a few days. You tell him I shall be up directly, will you?”
She made good her escape, slipping not up the stairs but rather out the front door of the establishment. And once outside, she broke into a most unladylike run, lifting the hem of her ruined gown as though a few mud spatters would matter. Around her, the men in the yard turned to watch and grin, but she was beyond caring about that.
Breathless, she found her carriage standing just beyond the main roadway. Wrenching open the door furiously, she discovered the baron inside. Without waiting for Jem, she threw her body into the coach, ripping the seam of her narrow skirt.
“Of all the awful things to do!” she rounded on Haverhill. “I should have looked the veriest fool—and worse! What was I supposed to say when my wounded husband disappeared?”
“Wasn’t disappearing.” He leaned back, his face pale beneath the auburn hair that fell over his forehead. “Sent Jem to tell you.” He shifted
Similar Books
