Read Online The Scoundrel and the Debutante by Julia London - Free Book Online Page A

Roan’s mind, none of them good. “Is he...are you involved in an affair with him?”
    â€œWhat?
No!
”
she exclaimed, her cheeks flooding with color.
    â€œAre you affianced to him?” he asked, wondering if perhaps she was avoiding her engagement. Again, the similarity to Aurora was uncanny and strangely maddening.
    â€œDid you not see his wife? He’s married!”
    â€œThen what is it, Miss Cabot? What has you hiding in these trees like a common criminal?” he demanded, his anger—admittedly, with Aurora—ratcheting.
    â€œI am
not
a criminal,” she said hotly.
    â€œMmm,” he said dubiously.
    â€œI was...” She swallowed. She rubbed her nape. “It is true,” she said, putting up her hand, “that Dr. Linford was to escort me to Himple, where I am to be met by Mr. Bulworth, who will see me the rest of the way to my friend Cassandra’s side. But this coach will also stop in Himple.”
    Roan waited for her to say more. At the very least he expected her to say why she was on the stagecoach at all. But Miss Cabot merely shrugged as if that was sufficient explanation.
    It was not.
    â€œWhy didn’t you go with him? Why would you put yourself in an overcrowded stagecoach with any number of potential scoundrels instead of in a coach with
springs
?” he asked, incredulous.
    Miss Cabot rubbed her nape once more. She sniffed. “It’s rather difficult to explain, really.”
    â€œDifficult? The only difficulty here is your reluctance to admit whatever it is you’ve done. I can’t begin to imagine what you’re doing.” A thought suddenly occurred to Roan, and anger surged in him. He abruptly grabbed her elbow and pulled her forward. “Has he attempted... Has he taken
liberty
with you?” he softly demanded and glanced over his shoulder at the others. He would get on the back of one of the horses from the coach and catch up with the bastard if that was the case. He’d break his damn neck—
    â€œNo! No, not at all! Dr. Linford is a good man, a decent man—”
    â€œThen what in blazes is the matter?”
    Miss Cabot drew herself up to her middling height, removed her arm from his grip with a yank. “I beg your pardon, but I owe you no explanation, Mr. Matheson.”
    â€œNo, you don’t,” he agreed. “And neither do I owe you my help. So I will explain to the driver that you must be met by a responsible party at the very first opportunity—”
    â€œAll right! I thought traveling with the Linfords would be tedious. I thought the stagecoach would be more...” She made a whirling motion with her hand, as if he should understand her and reach the conclusion quickly.
    But he had no idea what she was talking about. He leaned forward, peering at her. “More what?”
    â€œMore—” her gaze flicked over him, top to bottom, and her cheeks bloomed “—exciting,” she murmured.
    That made absolutely no sense. This cake-brained young woman thought a stagecoach would be more exciting than the doctor’s comfortable coach? That a stagecoach
with its close quarters and ripe strangers was more exciting than a padded bench? Roan couldn’t help himself—he laughed. Roundly.
    Miss Cabot glared at him. “So happy to amuse you.”
    â€œAmused? I’m not amused, I’m astounded by your foolishness.”
    She gave a small cry of indignation and whirled about, looking as if she intended to march into the woods, but Roan caught her arm before she could flee, pulling her back. She fell into his chest, landing like a pillow against him.
    â€œAll right, then, unlace your corset a bit,” he said. “But a
stagecoach
? It’s the worst sort of travel, second only to the sea if you ask me. Whatever would make you think it would be exciting? A walk over hot coals would be more pleasurable.”
    Miss Cabot shrugged free of him and