Her Proper Scoundrel Read Online Free

find her way in a timely manner.”
    “But how shall I return to London? My hack has left. I cannot leave.”
    “That, Lady Woodsby, is none of my concern. If you will excuse me, I have guests to attend to.” His voice was cold; his eyes shards of ice. Clearly the man was through with her.
    Josceline’s head began to whirl. The long hours in the carriage, her hunger, and now the realization her position had disappeared, made her light headed.
    The hawk-nosed face of Lord Oakland disappeared into a black mist.

     
    * * *

     
    Josceline awoke to the acrid odor of smelling salts. Struggling to remember where she was, she lay with her eyes closed while a babble of voices wafted over her. None of them were familiar. Where was she?
    Memories returned in a waterfall surge. Oakland Grange. She was at Oakland Grange and Lord Oakland had just informed her she was no longer wanted as governess. Despair nibbled at her – failure had set in before she even had the chance to show her capabilities. She kept her eyes shut, certain if she opened them, tears would trickle down her cheeks.
    “I say, Lord Oakland, the chit looks as if she has seen better days.” A masculine voice floated from a distance.
    “Indeed. Poor thing is in a dreadful state.” A woman’s voice. “Look at that hideous dress.”
    “All of you move aside if you please and let me see.”
    Josceline opened her eyes in time to see a well dressed mature woman kneel beside her. White feathers spilled from the woman’s black hair, matching the feathers on the lace stole draped about her shoulders, which in turn matched her high waisted lace dress. In short, the very epitome of current London fashion. They may be in the country but by no means was it the backwater Josceline had supposed.  
    “My dear, I am Lady Oakland. And you must be Lady Josceline Woodsby.” The woman picked up one of Josceline’s hands and patted it. “I must apologize. When you didn’t arrive as expected, we thought you had changed your mind so we employed a local woman. Pay no mind to my husband. You must stay here tonight. In the morning we shall set things to right.” Lady Oakland’s face showed concern; her grey eyes were sympathetic. She was not nearly the unfeeling monster her husband was.
    Josceline blinked back tears at the woman’s kindness. Surely it was all a misunderstanding. Surely the governess position would belong to her after all.
    She nodded slowly and looked up past Lady Oakland to the circle of eight or so shadowed faces hanging over them like a strand of mismatched beads. Her gaze roamed slowly from face to face. An odd mix they were: two young women in identical dress, twins, obviously; an elderly woman dressed in mourning; several unattached men of varying ages; a middle-aged couple. She had thought perhaps she might recognize one or two from London seasons past but no, they were all strangers to her.
    Only one man hung back, leaning against the doorjamb of the salon, arms crossed. It wasn’t until he turned his head that she could clearly see his face.
    She gasped in disbelief.
    It was the highwayman.
    At her gaze, he narrowed his eyes and lowered his chin, an almost imperceptible movement. Obviously, he recognized her.
    “You!” She struggled to sit up, pulling at her skirts in a vain attempt to cover her ankles. “It was you!”
    Her bonnet had been knocked askew when she had fallen and a ribbon dangled in her eye. One of the men offered her a helping hand and she clambered to her feet, nodding her thanks before adjusting her bonnet and pulling aside the offending ribbon.
    It gave her time to think. It seemed unlikely a highwayman would travel in the Oakland’s social circle. What was he doing here? Perhaps she was mistaken.
    Again she looked at him. His eyes were pinned on her as if by his gaze alone he could stop her allegations. Without a doubt, it was the man who had stopped her carriage earlier tonight.
    “Do you know Captain Sharrington?” Lady