Read Online Jane Feather - [V Series] by Virtue - Free Book Online Page B

to the cart, patting the nag’s hollowed neck. The cart was empty so presumably its owner had sold his produce that evening and, judging from the noise within the tavern, was probably drinking up his profits. With luck he wouldn’t surface for hours and she could return the horse before he’d missed it. She unhitched the bridle from the post. Cautiously she backed the horse and cart away from the tavern. Then she sprang onto the driver’s seat, shook the reins gently, and clicked her tongue. With a heavy sigh, the horse pulled away down the lane.
    As soon as she emerged from the poorer sections, Judith realized the panic in the city was full blown. Houses stood open as their residents ran back and forth with possessions, filling carriages and dog carts. Men and women hurried through the streets, and everywhere was heard the cry for horses.
    As she drove down a narrow cobbled lane, two men came out of the shadows, seizing her nag by the bridle, close to the bit. The horse came to an immediate stop with a snort indicative of relief. “All right, miss, we’re requisitioning your horse,” one of the men said. He wore the baize apron of a servant, but the man accompanying him was a stout, florid gentleman in satin waistcoat and knee britches. He stood breathing heavily, hanging onto the bridle for dear life.
    “On whose authority?” Judith demanded, her hand moving to her pocket, closing over the pistol.
    “Never you mind on whose authority,” the stout gentleman wheezed. “I need that horse.”
    “Well, so do I,” Judith pointed out. “Let go of the bridle, if you please, sir.”
    The man in the baize apron came round to the side of the cart, his expression menacing. In his hand, he held a club. “Now, don’t make trouble for yourself, miss. You step down from there nice and quick, and no one’s going to get hurt.”
    “I hate to disillusion you, but someone is most definitely going to get hurt.” Judith drew the pistol from her pocket, leveling it at the man with the club. “Step away from the cart, and you, sir, release the horse.”
    The stout man dropped the bridle on a wheezing gasp, but his servant was made of sterner stuff. “She won’t use it, sir. Never met a woman yet who could stand to hear the sound of a gun, let alone fire one.”
    “Well, let me introduce you to a new experience, my good man.” For the second time that day, Judith fired her pistol. The bullet whistled so close to the servant’s ear, he could feel the breeze. With a foul oath, he jumped back. The startled horse leaped forward at the same moment and Judith snapped the reins in further encouragement. The ancient nag fairly galloped down the cobbles, the cart swinging and bouncing on its iron wheels behind him.
    Judith laughed with pure exhilaration, then she noticed that her hands were gripping the reins so tightly they were numb. She hadn’t been conscious of fear during the confrontation, but now her heart began to pound. She drew back on the reins as they left the cobbled alley behind them and took several deep breaths until she felt calmer.
    She turned down the broad, tree-lined thoroughfare that would take her to the Quatre Bras road.
    Lord Carrington was standing outside a tall town house, observing the antics of his fellow man with bothastonishment and amusement. He was in riding dress, tapping his whip against his boots, as he waited for his horse to be brought round from the mews. He had no difficulty recognizing the driver of the cart turning onto the street. She was hatless and the tumbling copper ringlets were unmistakable in the moonlight.
    Where the devil was she going?
Without conscious purpose, as she came abreast of him, he moved to intercept her. He swung himself upward with an agile twist, and landed on the seat beside her. “Whither away, Miss Davenport? I find it hard to believe you’re running.”
    Judith blinked at him, bemused by this abrupt, unexpected manifestation. “No, of course I’m not, but