Karen Harbaugh Read Online Free

Rothwick. She drew back at the look of surprise on his face, then said: “But I think I can do well enough by myself.”
    “My dear ma’am, I was only jesting when I called you a female David,” he said irritably. “There are other Goliaths who may not know they are supposed to be defeated. I suggest you do as I say, and I will take you away from here.”
    “No, I cannot! That is...” She hesitated. “That is, I should not go with you. It is quite unseemly.”
    “As it is quite unseemly for you to wander out in the evening without escort, I hardly thought it would matter to you,” he replied with a hint of irony.
    She hung her head. “I know, but my—my cousin wanted a message delivered, and there was no one else in the house to do it, so she sent me.”
    “Your cousin?”
    “Lady Boothe, sir.”
    It seemed he grew suddenly still. “I know where she lives,” he said finally. “It is but fifteen minutes from here by coach, while you would take nearly an hour to hobble there on foot.”
    Linnea looked at the open carriage door. The lamp within put a glow upon the soft cushions and upholstered interior. She could not help glancing at the dark streets, and the comparison made her want to weep. The temptation of just a few minutes’ comfort was too great. She stepped up into the carriage.
    “Unusual, is it not, for someone to send a female relative unescorted into the night?” Lord Rothwick said after he gave direction to his groom.
    Linnea’s head lifted quickly, and she looked squarely at him. “Not for Lady Boothe!” she said acidly. She paused, then looked away. “I should not have said that; it was uncharitable in me. I am tired, sir. Do excuse me.” She was tired, tired to the bone. She would not have almost let slip her opinion of her cousin’s hypocrisy otherwise. All must be respectable and proper for Lady Boothe’s own daughters; their chaperonage could not be spared for a poor relative, and a distant one, at that.
    “Of course,” said Rothwick, and patted her hand in what she felt was a most comforting manner. “You have had a most terrible assault on your person; I do not blame you for your frame of mind. I would not count it as a discourtesy if you rested your eyes for a few minutes, at least until we arrive at your, ah, destination.”
    “Yes, I think I will, sir, if you do not mind,” replied Linnea. Certainly her first impression of him the other day had been grossly incorrect. How kind he was! Perhaps he had only been angry at something Paul Wrenton had done and had not meant to be rude. Linnea closed her eyes. The squabs were soft beneath her, and the body of the well-sprung carriage swayed rhythmically. Even her ankle seemed to hurt less. Her eyes drooped, and she dozed.
    Well, well, thought Rothwick. Opportunity knocks. Although, if he had known at the outset that the woman was Paul’s so-called inamorata, he would have left her to her fate. No doubt it was all some squabble about money or jewels.
    He grimaced to himself, feeling the knuckles he had bruised on one man’s jaw. Untrue. He could no more have let her be assaulted than if she were his own sister. In truth, no woman should be assaulted, regardless of what she was. Besides, he had not known who she was until he had seen her face.
    However, he could teach her a lesson. What an actress she was, to have claimed kinship with Lord and Lady Boothe, and with such an unconscious air! But she had slipped, and slipped badly. He had heard long ago that Lady Boothe was a woman of rigid propriety; he would bet his estates that she would never let a young female relative out of her sight or from the close proximity of one of her dragons. Much less would Lady Boothe let a female of her household walk alone at a time of night when only men and prostitutes dared appear. He felt himself confirmed that this woman was no innocent maiden at all, but as sly a bit of muslin as he had ever come across.
    Rothwick pursed his lips slightly, as