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Authors: Georgette Heyer
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dare say he did,’ replied Ludovic. ‘But here I am for all that. You’ve only to breathe one word and I shall have Bow Street Runners as well as Excisemen on my trail.’
She said fiercely: ‘I shall not breathe any word at all, and I think you are quite insulting to say that!’
He put his other hand over hers. ‘Did they tell you why I can’t set foot in England?’
‘Yes, but I do not care. Did you kill that person whose name I have forgotten?’
‘No, I did not.’
‘ Bon! Then we must at once discover who did do it,’ said Eustacie briskly. ‘I see now that this is a much better adventure than I thought.’
‘Do you believe me, then?’ he asked.
‘But certainly I believe you!’
He laughed, and pulling her to him, kissed her cheek. ‘Well, save for Basil, you’re the only person who does.’
‘Yes,’ said Eustacie. ‘But me, I do not like Basil.’
He was about to answer her when Ned Bundy loomed up through the darkness and twitched his sleeve. ‘Abel,’ he said laconically.
Eustacie heard the crunch of a pony’s hooves on the snow and the next moment saw the pony, with a short, thickset man sitting astride the pack-saddle. Ludovic took her hand and let her up to the newcomer. ‘Well?’ he said.
‘There’s a dunnamany Excisemen out. We’ll have to make back to Cowfold – if we can,’ said Mr Bundy, dismounting. He became aware of Eustacie, and favoured her with a long, dispassionate look. ‘Where did that dentical wench come from?’ he inquired.
‘She’s my cousin. Can’t we win through to Hand Cross?’
Mr Bundy accepted Eustacie’s identity without comment and apparently without interest. ‘We’m not likely to win to Cowfold,’ he replied. ‘They’re on to us.’
At this gloomy pronouncement his brother Ned, pulling him a little apart, broke into urgent, low-voiced speech. Ludovic strode over to join in the discussion, and returned in a few minutes to Eustacie’s side, saying briskly: ‘Well, I’m sorry for it, but I can’t let you go to London to-night. You’ll have to come with us.’
‘Oh, I would much rather come with you,’ Eustacie assured him. ‘Where are we going?’
‘South,’ he replied briefly. ‘Those damned riding officers must have got wind of this convoy. There may be some rough work done before the night’s out, I warn you. Come along!’
He seized her by the wrist again and strode off with her to where her horse had been tethered, and without ceremony tossed her up into the saddle. Eustacie, seeing the two Bundys busy with the laden ponies, said emulatively: ‘Can I help to lead them, please?’
‘No. Keep quiet.’
‘But what can I do?’
‘Nothing.’
Ned Bundy said something under his breath.
‘I dare say, but I’m not going to have a cousin of mine hit over the head,’ said Ludovic. ‘Ready, Abel?’
A grunt answered him; the train began to move southward, Abel at its head. Ludovic mounted a rough pony and brought up the rear, still holding Eustacie’s bridle. She took instant exception to this, and after a short but pungent argument he let her go free, much against the advice of Ned Bundy, who was ranging alongside the convoy, whipping up the stragglers.
Eustacie interrupted Mr Bundy’s muttered suggestions for the disposal of her person by announcing calmly that she was quite tired of him, a remark which surprised that ferocious gentleman so much that he could think of nothing to say, and retired towards the head of the train. ‘Why does he want to hit me on the head?’ asked Eustacie, looking critically after him. ‘He seems to me entirely stupid.’
‘Well, he don’t hold with women being mixed up in these affairs,’ explained Ludovic. ‘You’re devilish in the way, you know.’
‘But you do not mind having me with you, do you?’ asked Eustacie anxiously.
‘Lord, no, I like it!’ replied Ludovic lightheartedly. ‘Only you won’t care for it if there’s any shooting done.’
‘Yes, I
She said fiercely: ‘I shall not breathe any word at all, and I think you are quite insulting to say that!’
He put his other hand over hers. ‘Did they tell you why I can’t set foot in England?’
‘Yes, but I do not care. Did you kill that person whose name I have forgotten?’
‘No, I did not.’
‘ Bon! Then we must at once discover who did do it,’ said Eustacie briskly. ‘I see now that this is a much better adventure than I thought.’
‘Do you believe me, then?’ he asked.
‘But certainly I believe you!’
He laughed, and pulling her to him, kissed her cheek. ‘Well, save for Basil, you’re the only person who does.’
‘Yes,’ said Eustacie. ‘But me, I do not like Basil.’
He was about to answer her when Ned Bundy loomed up through the darkness and twitched his sleeve. ‘Abel,’ he said laconically.
Eustacie heard the crunch of a pony’s hooves on the snow and the next moment saw the pony, with a short, thickset man sitting astride the pack-saddle. Ludovic took her hand and let her up to the newcomer. ‘Well?’ he said.
‘There’s a dunnamany Excisemen out. We’ll have to make back to Cowfold – if we can,’ said Mr Bundy, dismounting. He became aware of Eustacie, and favoured her with a long, dispassionate look. ‘Where did that dentical wench come from?’ he inquired.
‘She’s my cousin. Can’t we win through to Hand Cross?’
Mr Bundy accepted Eustacie’s identity without comment and apparently without interest. ‘We’m not likely to win to Cowfold,’ he replied. ‘They’re on to us.’
At this gloomy pronouncement his brother Ned, pulling him a little apart, broke into urgent, low-voiced speech. Ludovic strode over to join in the discussion, and returned in a few minutes to Eustacie’s side, saying briskly: ‘Well, I’m sorry for it, but I can’t let you go to London to-night. You’ll have to come with us.’
‘Oh, I would much rather come with you,’ Eustacie assured him. ‘Where are we going?’
‘South,’ he replied briefly. ‘Those damned riding officers must have got wind of this convoy. There may be some rough work done before the night’s out, I warn you. Come along!’
He seized her by the wrist again and strode off with her to where her horse had been tethered, and without ceremony tossed her up into the saddle. Eustacie, seeing the two Bundys busy with the laden ponies, said emulatively: ‘Can I help to lead them, please?’
‘No. Keep quiet.’
‘But what can I do?’
‘Nothing.’
Ned Bundy said something under his breath.
‘I dare say, but I’m not going to have a cousin of mine hit over the head,’ said Ludovic. ‘Ready, Abel?’
A grunt answered him; the train began to move southward, Abel at its head. Ludovic mounted a rough pony and brought up the rear, still holding Eustacie’s bridle. She took instant exception to this, and after a short but pungent argument he let her go free, much against the advice of Ned Bundy, who was ranging alongside the convoy, whipping up the stragglers.
Eustacie interrupted Mr Bundy’s muttered suggestions for the disposal of her person by announcing calmly that she was quite tired of him, a remark which surprised that ferocious gentleman so much that he could think of nothing to say, and retired towards the head of the train. ‘Why does he want to hit me on the head?’ asked Eustacie, looking critically after him. ‘He seems to me entirely stupid.’
‘Well, he don’t hold with women being mixed up in these affairs,’ explained Ludovic. ‘You’re devilish in the way, you know.’
‘But you do not mind having me with you, do you?’ asked Eustacie anxiously.
‘Lord, no, I like it!’ replied Ludovic lightheartedly. ‘Only you won’t care for it if there’s any shooting done.’
‘Yes, I
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