Anita Mills Read Online Free Page B

inch, in fact. Good cattle, Bascombe—I own they surprised me.
    “If yer lor’ship was ter move, I’d get inter the box,” Davies offered, pushing his way out.
    Dominick Deveraux nodded. “At Alton, take the road to Reading, then continue north toward Nottingham. Do you know the way?”
    “Aye.”
    Cribbs looked at the steady rain for a moment, sighed, then followed his superior. “Demned poor night fer drivin’, Mr. Davies, if ye was to ask me,” he complained.
    As the two men climbed up onto the driver’s seat, Dominick pulled off his soaked cloak and heaved himself up into the passenger compartment, taking the place across from Anne and Bascombe. Settling in, he extended his boots between them.
    “I ain’t going to Nottingham,” Bertie declared. “Hire you a carriage at Reading.”
    “Too risky. I might be recognized.”
    With one hand holding the seam of her rent skirt together and the other pressing her torn bodice against her shoulder, Anne spoke up. “Sir, I should like to return to London forthwith. As it is, ’twill be difficult explaining to my employer where I have been. And I must contact the authorities about Mr. Fordyce, though I am sure I do not know what Mrs. Philbrook will have to say on that head.” Looking downward at her ruined gown, she sighed. “She’s overgiven to censure anyway.”
    “No! Damme if I’m going back to London, Miss Morland. Got to go abroad,” Bertie maintained stoutly. “Put you down at a posting house. As for Deveraux, they ain’t going to be looking for him on the common stage. Me—I got to go to France ere m’father finds me.”
    “I assure you Miss Morland will be noted in that gown—every man jack between here and London will be ogling what isn’t covered.” Dominick reached beneath his sodden cloak and drew out his pistol. Laying it across his knee, he looked at Bertie. “Now, I believe I said Nottingham, did I not?” he asked with deceptive softness. As the other man recoiled visibly, he turned his attention to Anne. “Quite fetching, my dear, but were I you, I’d cover myself with a carriage rug ere I enlivened Bascombe’s amatory instincts.” Leaning back, he closed his eyes, murmuring, “And I shouldn’t advise any movement this direction, Bascombe, for I sleep rather lightly.”
    “Really, sir …” Anne began stiffly. “If we had not left so precipitately, I should have brought my shawl.”
    “It’s all right,” Bertie interrupted her. “I ain’t going to do nothing foolish—and I ain’t got any amatory instincts. Ain’t in the petticoat line,” he added, as though that explained everything. Leaning down, he retrieved a rug from beneath his seat, then straightened to hand it to her. Casting a significant look toward the other man, he murmured low, “Dominick Deveraux is the one with the rep for the females, Miss Morland. He’s the one you got to watch. Not me. I got no address.”
    “You give him too much credit, I am sure,” she retorted, “for if he has any, I’ve not yet seen it.”
    One blue eye opened briefly. “How very unappreciative you are, my dear. At least you are not on your way to jail.”
    The image of Quentin Fordyce lying pale and still rose in her mind, stifling any answer. For a long moment she felt again the panic; then she managed to master it. When she looked up again, Dominick Deveraux appeared asleep. She pulled the carriage rug close about her and tried not to think beyond the present.

Chapter 2
2
    The storm had abated, replaced by an enveloping mist that beaded rather than trickled. Inside the carriage, the windows were steamed over, obscuring the graying dawn. Anne Morland shifted her weight uncomfortably, seeking ease for her cramped limbs, and wondered where they were. Taking a corner of the carriage rug, she wiped at the window, but there was naught to see outside. Her gaze moved to Dominick Deveraux, then to Albert Bascombe, and she asked herself dispiritedly how they could sleep, for she