Ransom Redeemed Read Online Free Page A

to drag the women off his bed. They, however, fought back. His threesome of lusty beauties were capable of looking after themselves, full of vigorous cockney spirit and with lungs just as robust as those of Mademoiselle Saint Clair.
    "Ladies, please!" he attempted to intervene while dodging a swinging pillow. "Belle! For pity's sake—" He received a sharp elbow to the stomach that left him momentarily winded. As he bent forward, wheezing, another pillow flung savagely at his head, split open to release a snowy cloud of goose-feathers.
    And so his day had begun. Not that much different to any other, truth be told.
    But he found himself detached from it all, as if he viewed the spinning feathers and flying limbs from a distance, like 'La Contessa' who watched complacently from the wall, waiting for him to figure it all out.
    Just one more annoying bloody woman who couldn't say what she meant and expected him to understand her expression, he thought angrily.
    Finally he gave up trying to make anybody listen to him. They seemed to have forgotten he was even there. In fact, he began to suspect they were all rather enjoying themselves.
    Ducking a flying vase and brushing feathers from his shoulder, he left them to it and went down to the kitchen, where he hoped to find his groom at breakfast. But the staff had already eaten and gone about their business. Only the cook remained.
    "Mr. Deverell, sir? Is anything amiss?"
    "I'm afraid it's much the same as usual, Mrs. Clay. Where's Ben?"
    "He took your horse to the smithy first thing, sir, to be fresh shod."
    Damn. He'd have to go out on foot.
    "Shouldn't Smith go upstairs, sir, and stop the fight?" his cook asked tentatively, turning her gaze upward as another loud crash shook the house.
    "I wouldn't want him to put himself out... or get stabbed in the arbor vitae by a hatpin. Let them get it out of their system, Mrs. Clay. Let them exhaust themselves. Far be it for me to try and speak sense into any woman."
    "No, sir. I don't suppose you can speak sense."
    He shot her a sideways glance, but she got on with her pastry, not looking at him."Ah, I almost forgot. There is a young, polite, probably very confused, Indian lady in the hall, Mrs. Clay. Please provide her with a cup of tea, and tell Smith he will find some coins within the inner pocket of my old, dark green cutaway, some bank notes under the Tantalus in the library and, I believe," he scratched his head, trying to remember, "there should be a small amount tucked behind the reclining nude with the ugly babies. If not, definitely a few notes inside the Wedgewood urn. Make sure Smith gives it all to the Indian lady. Her rent is due today."
    "Yes, sir. I'll see to it."
    This duty discharged, Ransom left via the tradesman's entrance behind the kitchen and leapt up the steps, into the street.
    Above him, through that window he'd left open on the landing, the ruckus could still be heard, causing several passing pedestrians to glance upward in wonder.
    Belle's face appeared, and she looked down.
    "Deverell! Ou allez-vous?"
    "I told you I was on my way out, my dainty flower. Simply can't stay, but lovely to see you as always."
    "Reviens! T'es rien qu'un petit connard!"
    Although tempted to shout back that he was, in fact, one of the few children sired by his father within wedlock and therefore legitimate— most definitely not a bastard— he thought this might not be the ideal time to worry about correcting her. Women could be completely unreasonable at moments like these. They simply didn't have a sense of humor. So he merely waved. "Au revoir, mon ami!"
    "I will pluck out your eyes and feed them to your own donkey!"
    Curious. He was quite sure he didn't own a donkey, so she had clearly got her English mixed up again.
    Nevertheless, probably best not to hang about and find out what she meant.
    He took off across the street on foot, seeking a narrow alley down which he might escape— somewhere Belle, in a Hansom cab, would not be able