Lady Ellingham and the Theft of the Stansfield Necklace: A Regency Romance Read Online Free Page A

was just about to slide down onto the canopy over the front door when she
felt an iron like grip on the wrist of her right hand.  She felt herself being
slowly hauled up.  What was she to do?  Frantically she grabbed the jemmy out
of the pocket with her left hand and brought it down as hard as she could on Thorndale’s
knuckles.  He winced with pain but he did not let go.  She looked up into dark
eyes blazing with anger and his face was so near, she could smell the pungent
aroma of brandy on his breath. He could see the whites of her terrified eyes,
with irises violet blue in the moonlight, but blast the boy, his face was
wrapped in a large black scarf and hiding the rest of his features.
           No matter,
he would find out soon enough who had dared to enter his home and attempt to
rob him as soon as he had hauled him up.  Felicity was undone, then all of a
sudden, she felt the black leather glove sliding slowly down her wrist, and as
if by a miracle, she was free and dropped down onto the canopy. Alex Sheraton
stood there exasperated, peering over the balcony with the leather glove in hand,
as she disappeared over the side and dropped silently down onto the street; but
not before, he saw the large unsightly scar that adorned the underside of her right
wrist.
          Thorndale
poised to give chase but stopped himself.  It was obvious that the lad had not
had time to take anything.  Never the less he cursed; the rogue would not have
gotten away so easily if he had been totally sober.  He made a note however, to
keep his eyes open for a young gentleman with violet blue eyes and a tell tale scar
on the underside of his right wrist. 
          It was
clear that the lad was no normal thief.  His jacket was of the finest
kerseymere and the scarf that wrapped his face was of the finest silk.  He
examined the glove in his hand; it was crafted in best quality black leather
and no doubt purchased in Bond Street itself.    No this young man was a member
of the quality, but what he was doing in his apartment trying to rob him, was a
most perplexing conundrum.  He almost regretted his decision not to give chase,
if only to satisfy his curiosity.  The Marquis, a renowned Corinthian and keen
sportsman would no doubt have caught him.  Ah well in was too late to have
regrets and be hopping over the balcony now, the lad would be long gone.

Chapter 3
     

Felicity’s Altercation with a Footpad
     
          Felicity
did not stop running until she reached the end of Green Street.  She looked
around for her pursuer but was amazed to discover that the street was deserted.
Thank goodness!  Thorndale had decided not to give chase. She almost collapsed
on the pavement with relief but it would do no good to linger.  She turned into
Park Street and lapsed into a quick walking pace.  All she wanted to do now was
to get to the safety of her own home. 
          Felicity
had just turned into Upper Brook Street when a large dark figure suddenly
jumped out of the shadow of a doorway and grabbed her from behind.  She felt a
vice like arm fasten around her neck and press hard against her throat and
something sharp digging into her side.  ‘Well me lad, just do as yer telt and
hand over the baubles and yer winnit get hurt.’ The voice was aggressive,
guttural and unrefined and Felicity had no doubt that she had fallen into the
hands of a footpad.
          Felicity
struggled to free herself, forcing her elbows as hard as she could into his
ribs. In his shock, her assailant relaxed his grip just enough for Felicity to
turn around but she could not quite free herself.  She found herself facing a
giant of a man with a pocked marked face and blackened teeth.  ‘Slippery little
bugger aren’t yer,’ he grinned as she struggled some more.  ‘Why don’t you just
make it easy on yersel and hand over the blunt and I’ll be on me way. That way yer
won’t be gettin hurt.’
          ‘Let me
loose you worm!’