It Takes a Hero Read Online Free Page A

stomach," he grumbled.
    "We aren't going to break any limbs."
    They continued riding into town when a sign caught Rafe's eye.
     
    ROYAL POST OFFICE
    THADDEUS STONE, POSTAL MASTER
     
    Rafe grinned. Now here was a bit of luck. This Mr. Stone would be just the person to help them, without having to bribe an innkeeper for directions. This would save what few coins he did have, especially now that Cochrane had apparently used the Rochelle payment for purposes other than rent.
    He reined to a stop and told the lad to wait for him as he entered the post office.
    To his chagrin there was a customer inside, a woman chatting to the young lady behind the counter. He looked around for the postmaster, but saw no one other than the pair of females before him.
    This could either work to his advantage or…
    "Oh, Miss Tate, you must do something about the colonel. You simply must," the postmistress was saying. "Everyone is talking about the other night."
    Miss Tate's bonnet shook furiously. "What do you want me to do, send him—"
    The female chatter ended abruptly as the postmistress looked up from her gossip, her mouth falling open. Then she gave her friend a warning shake of her head.
    Rafe shifted from one foot to the other, then doffed his hat. "Good day," he offered, adding a smile meant to leave both of them weak in the knees.
    The woman behind the counter shot him a quick narrowed glance and then moved closer to her friend.
    Then Miss Tate turned around.
    From behind, she had looked like the typical country mouse, in her plain brown bonnet and nondescript gown, market basket in hand. But as she first shot a glance over her shoulder and then slowly spun on one heel, he found himself wondering, but for a second, if he'd just discovered his very own Miss Darby.
Chapter 2
    « ^ »
     
    Remember me when I am gone with a nosegay of forget-me-nots and fond regrets… Oh, and, father, don't let that odious Cecilia Overton talk you into giving her my best blue bonnet.
    Her chin is far too pointed to wear it to advantage.
     
    Miss Darby (while in the throes of fever)
    to her father, Colonel Darby
    in
Miss Darby's Darkest Hour
     
    A s quickly as Rafe found himself transfixed by the lady before him, he realized how wrong he'd been. For up close, Miss Tate did not possess the qualities of the imaginary Miss Darby, but she did exhibit nearly every trait on his list of potential suspects:
     
    1.  The lady was obviously a spinster. There was no first blush on her cheek, no dewy light to her eyes like some Bath miss fresh from school.
    2. In her market basket was a book, which a quick glance revealed as Sir John Sutton's
Translations of Early Latin
. The lady was a bluestocking of the first order. Early Latin? What lady read such stuff?
    3.  Her pinched lips and the set of her jaw was enough to
scare off any man who might consider the temptation of stealing a kiss—even that insipid Throckmorten.
     
    The only thing missing was the horde of cats at her skirts, mewing for the cream and bits of chicken she indulged them with on a daily basis.
    She made a polite cough, and it was then that Rafe realized he'd been caught staring at her, gawking if he was honest about it.
    And he would have stopped if he hadn't looked into her eyes and found himself captured anew. They were so very blue, a color that reminded him of the warm and sultry Mediterranean. And even more, they sparkled with mischief and intelligence, a dangerous combination in any woman.
    Her brows rose slightly as he looked at her, as if to say she was compiling his attributes as well. But what her estimation of him was, he couldn't tell, for not a hint of interest filled her blue eyes.
    No interest? Rafe felt his rakish reputation tarnish ever so slightly, and he didn't like it in the least.
    In fact, it was as if she'd dismissed him without a second thought. The last time he'd been so summarily dismissed by a woman he'd been twelve.
    "May I help you?" the postmistress asked.
    "I'm