The Highwayman's Mistress Read Online Free

travelling in darkness, and as if by miracle the rain
ceased and faint glimmer of moonlight peeped through thinning clouds.
      “Thank Heaven,” exclaimed Richard. “Pray God
we make the coast in two days, or should that be nights?”

Chapter three.
    ~
     
    Once inside the hall of
the hunting lodge and Richard assisting the coachman, she had to ask. “Why is
Francois a highwayman?”
      Angelica threw back the hood of her cape.
Jewelled pins in her powdered wig glistened in candlelight, a reminder of her
position at court and how difficult it would be for her to simply discard
everything and leave it behind.
      “He is not a highwayman. He only posed as
one to stop your coche, to stop you driving into Versailles where you would
have been arrested.”
      “But he robbed Richard of a silver snuffbox
and gold fob watch.”
      Angelica looked aghast. “He robbed him?” She tutted, most annoyed. “I told him to tell you to turn the coche
around and go back to England, but he told you to come here, and that was wrong
of him.”
      “He did not tell us to come, Angelica. He
just said there were two women here, and both Richard and I agreed we could not
turn back without attempting to rescue whomever. Though I did guess the rider
to be Francois, and hoped it might be you hiding here.”
      “Francois promised me faithfully he would
see you safely turned back, and then he was going to try and find some horses.”
She shook her head, air of guilt about her. “Steal them if need be.”
      “So he has not abandoned you?”
      “No, he swore we live or die together, and
promised to return by midnight with or without horses.”
      “Then we must hurry, for you cannot travel
as you look now.”
      Angelica sighed, air of despondency about
her as she eased her cape from shoulders, and called out for Anna Marie. A door
opened and there stood another fashionable young lady of the French Court, to
whom Angelica addressed in French and explained Richard’s plan of action. A
slight argument developed and Diamonta scolded them both in French for wasting
precious time, and insisted they make every effort to disguise themselves and
as quickly as possible. Anna Marie pouted and Angelica screwed her eyes tight,
neither really willing to abandon their finery.
      “As servants you will not have to speak, and
therefore it will be much easier to get you past any soldiers or militiamen we
may encounter en route.”
      “You are right, Diamonta“ said a familiar
male voice from the doorway directly behind Anna Marie. “I have one extra
horse, that is all I could get, so who will ride with me and who will ride in
the coche?”
      Anna Marie turned, threw herself at
Francois, arms about his neck. “I will come with you, my love, my Francois.”
      Angelica laughed. “Ride a horse? Oh come
now, Anna Marie, you’ve never sat a horse.”
      “Is this true, Anna Marie?” quizzed
Francois, as he levered her arms from about his neck in rough and hasty manner.
“You have never ridden a horse?”
      “Of course it is true,” rallied his sister,
wig wrenched from head. “I haven’t since a small child,” she added, snatching
the jewelled pins from wig, “but at least I know how to ride.”
      Anna Marie’s pout returned, and Francois
expression turned thunderous. “Then my sister rides with me, and you Anna
Marie, go with Diamonta.”
      “I can understand Anna Marie’s desire to be
with Francois,” slipped Diamonta’s lips in her mother’s tongue, and she
regretted the words before the last uttered, because Francois shot her a look
of amusement, as though having read her very thoughts, that as his mistress she
would have chosen to ride with him. “But please, can we stop this bickering,
pouting, and unwillingness to see the urgency of our getting underway
directly.”
      Anna Marie turned, a look quite venomous.
“Your French is very accomplished.”
      Diamonta sensed the other woman’s coolness
was