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

she gasped trying to free herself from his grip. She could not
even reach into her pocket for her pistol for her arms were pinned to her sides.
‘I have no money!’ she cried.
         ‘What the...’
The man stared at her in surprise and ripped the black silk scarf from off her
face. ‘Well, well, well, what have we here, a wench?’  He continued to knock
the hat off her head, her long golden hair escaping its confines.  She had tied
the tresses harshly back in a band but some unruly blonde curls had broken
free.
          The man
gave a lopsided, sickly grin and Felicity froze in horror as he discovered her
secret.  ‘Well seeing as yer ave no blunt, mebbies yer might ave somethin else
I might like,’ he leered.   He bent over her to kiss her but she averted her
face and his lips brushed passed her ear.  She nearly retched with disgust.  He
stank like the gutter and his breath reeked of daffy.  Just at that moment,
they heard voices in the distance, faint at first but they were getting louder. 
Her assailant raised his head to listen, obviously reluctant to relinquish his
unexpected and most welcome prize. The conversation became distinguishable as
two gentlemen walked toward the end of Park Street and into Upper Brook Street.
          ‘I say
Henry, what time is it?’  Henry consulted his timepiece. ‘Still early old chap,
only 2pm. I have to say Charles it was damn tame offerings at Watiers tonight,
the stakes were not very high.  Glad we left when we did but what shall we do
now?’
          The man
called Charles deliberated for a bit. ‘Ball of fire, that is what we need
Charles, a ball of fire.  What do you say that we knock old George up; he keeps
damned fine brandy in his cellars, doubt he’s paid tax on a drop of it.’
          ‘Jolly
good notion Charles,’ Henry replied chuckling gaily.
          It was at
that moment they noticed Felicity trapped in the great arms of her assailant.  Felicity,
who had listened expectantly, sagged with disappointment as they rounded the
corner.  One of the gentlemen was round and portly and clearly in his altitudes
and the other was of medium height, very slim and appeared to be in no better a
state.  She doubted she would get any help from this quarter.  The footpad
grinned, he was obviously of the same opinion and who could blame him, for he
was a giant of a man and certainly a lot younger than the two unfortunate
gentlemen who had stumbled upon them.   Moreover, the two inebriated gentleman
appeared not to understand the situation.
          ‘I think
we have chanced upon a mill Henry.’  Charles raised his nose in the air and
sniffed.  There was a distinct pungent aroma of daffy and something else;
Charles could not quite describe it but it was certainly acridly pungent.  He
raised his quizzing glass to survey the scene. ‘This is no mill old chap.’ He
poked Felicity’s assailant in the hip with his cane. ‘That gentleman there is a
footpad, I would swear it.’
          Henry
gazed through his alcohol-induced stupor as if he had just received a
revelation. ‘By George, Charles I think you may be right.’
          Henry
gazed at Felicity. ‘Say young man, are you in need of assistance?’
          Felicity
still locked in the footpads vice like grip nodded her head vigorously but the rogue
just laughed.  Henry turned to the footpad. ‘I say you scoundrel, unhand that
young man. What kind of coward are you anyway? Why you don’t pick on someone
your own size?’
          The
footpad just gave them a languid wave of the hand. ‘This here, you old fools,
is no cove, and I would suggest you both mosey on your way and be mindin yer
own business if yer divna want yer cork drawn.’
         Henry
looked at his friend. ‘Did you hear that Charles, this ruffian called you an
old fool.’
         ‘Called me
an old fool did he?  Do you know Henry I am not sure if that was a compliment. 
I don’t think