It Takes a Hero Read Online Free

shrugged. "You sent me there last week." Again his interest in English flora rose to new heights as he intently studied the passing hedge.
    Wait just a damn moment
, Rafe thought. Sent his assistant to Madame Rochelle's? "I did no such thing," he countered.
    "Yes, you did. You said quite specifically to go around and collect our late accounts and so I did."
    "Madame Rochelle's account wasn't late," Rafe pointed out as they rounded a corner and came within sight of the village.
    "It's paid in full now." Cochrane grinned, then he nudged his horse and raced the last length into town leaving a groaning Rafe behind.
    While he was less than bemused with the idea of Cochrane at Madame Rochelle's, at least he wouldn't have to give the lad the talk he'd been meaning to. One Pymm had alluded to in his instructions as "explain to the boy the necessary evils of women and keep him free of pox."
    Rafe made a note to himself that from now on he'd take care of unpaid accounts and leave Cochrane behind to do the paperwork.
    Beneath him, his horse pranced and sidestepped, as if it too were reluctant to enter the notorious little hamlet. Reaching down, he patted the high-strung animal and spoke softly in Spanish to it as his grandfather had taught him, then nudged the soothed beast forward.
    Bramley Hollow seemed at first glance like any other English village—well tended, if not sleepy by London standards, but Rafe, like Cochrane, knew this village was unique in that it boasted a matchmaker, and had kept one at the ready for hopeless spinsters and wayward and unwitting men for over a thousand years. It was enough of a reputation that most avowed bachelors gave Bramley Hollow a wide berth.
    Cochrane looked around the respectable little cottages and shops as if he'd just been dropped in the middle of a savage village and was ready to take flight at the least provocation from the matrimonial minded natives.
    "How are we going to find this Briggs fellow?" he asked. Cochrane shared Lady Tottley's opinion that the
Darby
author was a man.
    Rafe wasn't so convinced. After the family convocation, Georgie had pressed the four volumes of
Miss Darby's
novels into his hands and told him to read them. He'd scoffed at the idea, but out of curiosity, and because he was currently between mistresses, he had picked up the first book and begun reading.
    There on the pages of a book, Rafe discovered something, someone who left him intrigued.
    Miss Darby.
    From her headstrong ways to her fearless devotion, Rafe was captivated by this figment of a fervent imagination. Not that such a woman could ever exist in real life, but time and time again, he found himself wondering what it would be like to encounter such a lady.
    And there were also clues to be found within the binding of the slim volume. The independent and outspoken heroine might have been created by a man, but Rafe knew women. He'd loved enough of them to have an inkling of their unspoken desires and this Miss Darby clamored of long-held hopes and undeclared dreams.
    No, in his estimation the author was most likely some bluestocking with stars in her eyes, living out her dreary life through Miss Darby's adventures. The type of chaste lady who'd never caught a man's eyes, let alone a stolen kiss, and would consider that insufferable bore, Lt. Throckmorten, a fine catch. Oh, yes, they'd find the lady with her twelve cats at hand, dreaming of a life that had passed her by.
    And with a bit of his notorious charm and a warning hint as to how ruinous the lofty Lady Tottley's ire could be, the spinster's pen would be tucked away for years to come.
    "This fellow isn't going to want to be found," Cochrane said. "We could be stuck here for days." That prospect had him looking longingly over his shoulder toward London.
    "We'll ask at the inn to start."
    This caught Cochrane's attention. "The one with the pies?"
    Rafe laughed. "Business first, pies later."
    "Don't see how we are supposed to break arms on an empty