Read Online With This Ring by Amanda Quick - Free Book Online
Authors: Amanda Quick
Tags: Fiction, Historical
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to you for information. You gave it to me, for which I must thank you. But that is all I require of YOU."
"You need a good deal more from me, Mrs. Poole." His
A m a n d a
eyes narrowed ominously. "And whether you like it or not, you're going to get it. I shall accompany you back to London in the morning."
"This is a disaster. Utter disaster." Beatrice was still fuming that evening as she joined Sally in the small sitting room that linked their bedchambers. "What on earth am I going to do with him?"
Sally, garbed in a faded wrapper and a yellowed muslin cap, reclined in a chair in front of the fire and sipped a glass of gin. "Ignore him?'
"One can hardly do that." Beatrice was also dressed for bed. The hem of her chintz dressing gown swirled around her legs as she stalked back and forth in front of the hearth. "He is hardly the sort of man one can simply ignore."
"Mais oui. You can say that again." Sally frowned. "Did ye 'appen to notice that his eyes are the same color as that great beastly hound of his?"
"A trick of the light, nothing more."
"If ye say so. I still say it's peculiar." Sally swallowed more gin. "I'm sorry things ain't goin' the way ye planned. But look on the bright side, ma'am. If the Earl o'Monkcrest escorts us back to Town, we'll likely get a much better room at that bloody inn than we had on the way here."
Beatrice went to stand at the window. She could hardly discuss the problem in depth with Sally, who knew nothing of the real reason they were in Devon-
She had been a fool to come here. In the process of consulting him on the matter of the Forbidden Rings, she had unwittingly dangled an irresistible lure in front of Monkcrest. The man was consumed by his passion for legends and antiquities. One had only to read his papers to know that.
What in the world was she going to do about him? she wondered. She had to keep him out of London. She could not let him find the Rings first.
W i t h
R i n g
Two hours later she lay awake in bed, mulling over the same questions she had asked herself all evening. She was in the midst of devising a scheme to sneak away from the abbey before dawn, when her thoughts were interrupted by the unmistakable ring of a horse's hooves on paving stones.
It was nearly midnight. She could think of no logical reason for a horse to be in the forecourt at that hour. Perhaps Monkcrest was about to receive another uninvited guest. It would serve him right. It might also divert his attention from her, which would be useful.
Curious, she tossed aside the heavy quilts and sat up on the edge of the bed. A shiver went through her when her bare feet touched the cold floor. Embers still glowed on the hearth, but they no longer supplied enough heat to warm the bedchamber to a comfortable temperature.
She slid her feet into her slippers, pulled on her wrapper, and crossed the room to the window. A full moon illuminated the abbey forecouri.
She saw a horse and rider canter out through the gate. The stallion was a massive beast with a gracefully arched neck and muscled shoulders. The man on his back rode him with masterful ease. The folds of a black cloak swirled out behind him. A great hound, jaws agape, loped eagerly alongside the pair.
Beatrice folded her elbows on the windowsill and watched as the trio disappeared into the darkness.
She considered the matter for a very long while, but she could not think of a good reason for the Mad Monk of Monkcrest to ride out at midnight with only his hound for company.
Hunting highwaymen was similar to hunting any other sort of wild beast. One learned the creatures' ways and habits and then employed the knowledge to set a trap.
Years of experience had taught Leo a great deal. He was aware that one of the members of the local country gentry
had scheduled a house party that evening. Most of the guests would spend the night under their host's roof. Inevitably, however, a few would brave the roads to drive home. Those who did would be
"You need a good deal more from me, Mrs. Poole." His
A m a n d a
eyes narrowed ominously. "And whether you like it or not, you're going to get it. I shall accompany you back to London in the morning."
"This is a disaster. Utter disaster." Beatrice was still fuming that evening as she joined Sally in the small sitting room that linked their bedchambers. "What on earth am I going to do with him?"
Sally, garbed in a faded wrapper and a yellowed muslin cap, reclined in a chair in front of the fire and sipped a glass of gin. "Ignore him?'
"One can hardly do that." Beatrice was also dressed for bed. The hem of her chintz dressing gown swirled around her legs as she stalked back and forth in front of the hearth. "He is hardly the sort of man one can simply ignore."
"Mais oui. You can say that again." Sally frowned. "Did ye 'appen to notice that his eyes are the same color as that great beastly hound of his?"
"A trick of the light, nothing more."
"If ye say so. I still say it's peculiar." Sally swallowed more gin. "I'm sorry things ain't goin' the way ye planned. But look on the bright side, ma'am. If the Earl o'Monkcrest escorts us back to Town, we'll likely get a much better room at that bloody inn than we had on the way here."
Beatrice went to stand at the window. She could hardly discuss the problem in depth with Sally, who knew nothing of the real reason they were in Devon-
She had been a fool to come here. In the process of consulting him on the matter of the Forbidden Rings, she had unwittingly dangled an irresistible lure in front of Monkcrest. The man was consumed by his passion for legends and antiquities. One had only to read his papers to know that.
What in the world was she going to do about him? she wondered. She had to keep him out of London. She could not let him find the Rings first.
W i t h
R i n g
Two hours later she lay awake in bed, mulling over the same questions she had asked herself all evening. She was in the midst of devising a scheme to sneak away from the abbey before dawn, when her thoughts were interrupted by the unmistakable ring of a horse's hooves on paving stones.
It was nearly midnight. She could think of no logical reason for a horse to be in the forecourt at that hour. Perhaps Monkcrest was about to receive another uninvited guest. It would serve him right. It might also divert his attention from her, which would be useful.
Curious, she tossed aside the heavy quilts and sat up on the edge of the bed. A shiver went through her when her bare feet touched the cold floor. Embers still glowed on the hearth, but they no longer supplied enough heat to warm the bedchamber to a comfortable temperature.
She slid her feet into her slippers, pulled on her wrapper, and crossed the room to the window. A full moon illuminated the abbey forecouri.
She saw a horse and rider canter out through the gate. The stallion was a massive beast with a gracefully arched neck and muscled shoulders. The man on his back rode him with masterful ease. The folds of a black cloak swirled out behind him. A great hound, jaws agape, loped eagerly alongside the pair.
Beatrice folded her elbows on the windowsill and watched as the trio disappeared into the darkness.
She considered the matter for a very long while, but she could not think of a good reason for the Mad Monk of Monkcrest to ride out at midnight with only his hound for company.
Hunting highwaymen was similar to hunting any other sort of wild beast. One learned the creatures' ways and habits and then employed the knowledge to set a trap.
Years of experience had taught Leo a great deal. He was aware that one of the members of the local country gentry
had scheduled a house party that evening. Most of the guests would spend the night under their host's roof. Inevitably, however, a few would brave the roads to drive home. Those who did would be
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