The Curious Rogue Read Online Free

probably bring a few with her.
    “Remember Morton’s last letter? How he told about the man who was giving him food and wine? What of those who smuggle his letters to the coast for us?”
    “They do it only for the money it gains them. That is the sole reason. If they did not help his letters, you could not send him money—money which they take. A Frenchman would never do anything for anyone without being paid,” she ended adamantly.
    “Elizabeth, you are showing an absurdly ignorant streak.” Her uncle shook a finger at her. “I prided myself on thinking you had better judgment than you are now showing. Just as all Englishmen are not good, all Frenchmen are not bad.”
    “That has not been proven to me,” his niece insisted stubbornly.
    He shook his head regretfully, for he regarded this unquestioning condemnation as most unfortunate. His fork halted halfway to his mouth, a sudden recollection of Niles’ comment coming to mind.
    “What did happen on your journey?”
    Colour surged to Elizabeth’s cheeks. “It was nothing,” she said, attacking the beef on her plate.
    “Come now, you wouldn’t blush so.... Certes you were not robbed?”
    “No, Uncle. A man simply bolted into the coach as we were leaving Folkestone,” she said, dismissing the incident.
    “A stranger? What was his name? I’m surprised that Brown allowed it. He knows I dislike your travelling unchaperoned. I must speak with him....”
    “Brown knew nothing about it,” Elizabeth defended the coachman. “The man simply climbed in when we slowed to round a corner. You don’t know him and neither do I. He was being chased by the king’s men and used your coach to escape them. I don’t wish to discuss this any further,” she ended, and rose. Throwing her napkin onto the table, Elizabeth strode from the room without a further word or look.
    Sir Henry stared after her. Even the royalists had never elicited such a strong reaction in her. Perhaps this man is the one I should he searching for instead of that new barrister , he thought. If only his name could be learned.
    “I would give much to meet a man that could unsettle Elizabeth,” Sir Henry mused aloud. “He must have been a most curious rogue.”
     

Chapter Three
     
    The tall, dark man drew his cloak tightly about him as his hired hack plodded through a field near Ashford. Finding his thoughts more melancholy than usual, he reminded himself of the success he had had in his mission and of the little Parisian wench who had entertained him so well.
    But when he tried to picture her, there came instead the vision of the young miss whose coach he had left but hours before.
    Likely safe at her uncle’s now, he thought and grinned remembering how she had tried to take his pistol. Plenty of spirit there. He straightened as an idea struck.
    “It would be best if we got to London as quickly as possible,” he told the hired beast, “but then I’ve seldom done what is wisest.” He turned the steed towards Ashford and urged him to a gallop.
    Halting before the Crown and Sword, an inn on the outskirts of town, the man lithely stepped down and drew off his cloak. After tying it behind the saddle, he strode inside and tossed a coin carelessly upon the bar.
    The proprietor’s pudgy, dirt-stained hand closed over it, a toothless smile his greeting. “Take a seat, sir. I’ll fetch ye a pint o’ ale.” He drew a mug of rich, warm ale and carried it to the table.
    “Be ye travellin’ to London?” he asked, setting the mug down with a splattering jolt.
    “Perhaps.” The dark eyes forced the innkeeper to drop his gaze.
    “Ye look worn,” the fat man mumbled. He rubbed his dirty hands on his equally filthy apron. “Thought ye might want a room.”
    “You have a magistrate in Ashford?” The man’s gaze did not waver.
    “Magistrates all about England,” the innkeeper answered, unsettled by the light in the stranger’s eye. “What need ye be havin’ with a magistrate?”
    “His