Anita Mills by The Rogue's Return Read Free Book Online

know.”
    “Even if I could do it, which I cannot, Mrs. Philbrook knows I left London with my cousin, sir. And I very much doubt he survives.”
    “Well, think on it—no need for haste, now, is there?”
    “Mr. Bascombe, I have scarce thought of anything else.”
    Abruptly Dominick Deveraux roused and straightened in his seat. His blue eyes were distant, his manner almost brusque as he apologized, “Your pardon, Miss Morland. My pride ofttimes causes me as much difficulty as my temper.”

Chapter 3
3
    The carriage, which had slowed to a snail’s pace, rolled to a halt, and Cribbs hopped from the box. Albert Bascombe, who’d been dozing, came awake as the coachy wrenched open the door to announce, “Team’s tired, sir—the lead pair’s about ter drop. We got ter stop ere they are lamed—or worse.”
    “Where are we?”
    “ ’Bout a quarter-mile ter the Red Hart, Davies says.”
    “Which is where?” Bertie demanded querulously. “The Red Hart don’t mean nothing to me.”
    “Between Reading and Northampton—closer to Northampton,” Dominick answered for the coachy. “I’d say we are about halfway to Nottingham.”
    “Davies says we got ter change horses,” Cribbs spoke up. “Says the bays ain’t going to make it without a full day’s rest on oats.”
    Anne’s gaze dropped to where the carriage rug covered her shoulders. “I cannot go into an inn like this.”
    “ ’Course you can’t!” Bertie looked to Dominick. “Demned if I know why I came—ought to be in Bedlam for it,” he muttered with feeling. “Cannot go on ’cause the horses is tired, and cannot stop ’cause Miss Morland ain’t got enough left of her dress to go into a respectable place. All right, you tell me—what’s to do now?”
    Nearly too bone-weary to think, Dominick passed a hand over sore, burning eyes, then rubbed the dark stubble of beard on his cheek as though he could somehow clear the cobwebs from his brain. It did not seem as though he’d slept in days, and he felt the lack acutely now. As much as he wanted to say they’d go on, he knew it was impossible. The horses had traveled more than a hundred miles from the coast in nearly eleven hours, and neither the driver nor the coachman had had any sleep since they’d left the Blue Bull. He reached into his coat, drew out his watch, and blinked to focus on the dial.
    “Half-past ten,” he muttered.
    “And we ain’t eaten,” Bertie remembered, adding to his grievances. “Dash it, but I didn’t even sup last night!”
    Realizing she was the sticking point, Anne exhaled before offering, “If you would but send one of the men out with food, I’d stay in the carriage.”
    “No.” Dominick turned his bloodshot eyes to her, and for a long moment he studied her speculatively. “You are nearly as tall as Bascombe,” he decided. “Wear his greatcoat in, and once a chamber is bespoken, put on his clothes.”
    “I say, Deveraux, what the deuce … ? I ain’t… No!” Bertie fairly howled. Then, perceiving that the other man was serious, he argued, “Dash it, but she’s a female! Can’t go racketing about in breeches!”
    But Dominick continued to consider her. “The hair’s nearly short enough, and the form is slight enough to pass,” he mused aloud. “I think Bascombe could claim you for his nephew perhaps. Are you a game one, Miss Morland?”
    “Well, I—”
    “I can tell you she don’t like the idea! Respectable female, ain’t you, Miss Morland? What was you thinking of, Deveraux? Dash it, but it ain’t done!”
    “I don’t know about you, Bascombe, but I could use a shave, a meal, and a decent bed for a few hours. Besides, who’s to know?” Dominick countered softly.
    “Anybody who looks at her, for one,” Bertie retorted.
    “I don’t think so. We bundle Miss Morland into the greatcoat, tell the innkeeper your nephew’s too carriage-sick to go on, and we help her up to a chamber. There she changes into a coat and breeches ere she is