Read Online Miss Gabriel's Gambit by Rita Boucher - Free Book Online

trust herself to reply, afraid that she might say that Miles had given his sister as much as she deserved. Sylvia cantered off in the direction that the boy had taken, fairly certain that Miles was heading for his usual favorite spot out toward Buckingham House. Still, once she was out of sight, she deliberately slowed her horse’s pace, determined to enjoy some semblance of an outing despite Caro's tantrum.
    Sure enough, Sylvia found the boy waiting for her upon the wide open field.
    “Syl!” he called, waving at her cheerfully. “I hoped that it would be you coming after me.”
    “You were very naughty, Miles,” Sylvia said, mustering as much anger as she could. “You should not have provoked Caro so.”
    “Someone ought to,” Miles said, walking his horse toward her. “I daresay she has become the veriest prig since we came to Town. She sounds more and more like Mama every day. Besides, didn’t you get to ride?” He smiled mischievously.
    “At what cost?” Sylvia asked as she dismounted. “You know very well that this morning’s events will get back to Aunt Ruby one way or another.”
    “I’m sorry, Syl. I didn’t think of that,” he said.
    “Well,” Sylvia said, relenting at the boy’s crestfallen expression. “I ought not to say it, but I was glad of the ride.”
    The two walked their horses together in companionable silence for a moment, delaying their return, when suddenly, a magnificent mare raced into the clearing. Astride her was a man in white, his costume contrasting vividly with the animal’s coat of stark black.
    “Cor!” Miles whispered in awe. “A Hindoo!”
    “No, Miles. ‘Tis a Sikh. You can tell by-” But before Sylvia could finish her sentence, a large, spotted dog burst from the brush in a blur of speed, nipping at the heels of the mare. The horse reared in fright, kicking at the mongrel with flaying hooves while his rider struggled to retain his seat.
    To Sylvia’s dismay, the Sikh flew from the saddle, landing in a crumpled heap at the edge of the wood, while his mount galloped away in terror, pursued by the cur.
    “Miles, go get the groom and Caro, quickly,” Sylvia ordered, helping the boy up into his saddle.
    “I shall go after the horse,” Miles declared as he caught up the reins.
    “You shall not!” Sylvia commanded in a voice that brooked no contradiction. “Not when a human being needs help. Now, off with you.” She swatted his horse’s rump and leaving her own mount to graze, raced toward the fallen man.
    She knelt down beside the Sikh, noting in relief that he was still breathing, but other than chafing his hand, Sylvia was totally at a loss. She had never tended anything more serious than a scrape. He moaned and stirred slightly and Sylvia was reassured.
    “Do not worry,” she said in Hindi. “Soon someone will come. Soon.”
    The liquid brown eyes flew open. “The horse?” he whispered. “I must seek my master’s mare,” he declared, attempting to raise himself, but he closed his eyes once more as dizziness overcame him.
    Sylvia rose to her feet, praying that Miles would soon arrive with the groom, but instead the dog burst from the bushes once more, racing toward her. Frantically, Sylvia looked about her for some weapon. In desperation, she snatched up a fallen branch and placed herself between the animal and the man lying senseless upon the muddy ground. The dog stopped short, ears flattening against his head as he growled at her menacingly.
    “Get away!” she screamed, waving the stick. “Go home!”
    But the hound only bared its teeth in reply and lunged forward.
    “Spots!”
    Sylvia heaved a sigh of relief as the dog turned and raced toward a short, heavyset man who was striding out of the woods. As he came closer, his shabby coat and tattered boots became apparent, but his uncouth appearance was far less fearsome than the speculative look on his face as he drew near.
    “Well, well. What have you brought to ground here m’boy?” the