At the Highwayman's Pleasure by Sarah Mallory Read Free Book Online

was a treasure. He must increase her wages—when he could afford it. He poured himself a mug of ale and threw himself down in the chair beside the fire. As he devoured the pie he thought about his situation. That it had come to this—a captain in his Majesty’s navy, decorated for bravery under fire, now struggling to pay his way. He picked up the poker and stirred the coals with rough, angry movements while a quiet, insidious voice murmured in his ear.
    What about those coaches you hold up? You could take more than enough to live comfortably.
    He shook his head to rid it of the tempting thought. He was no thief; he wanted justice and would take only what had been stolen from him. Why, even the mailbags he searched through were always left at the roadside, where they would be found intact the next day.
    Then you’re a fool, said that insistent voice. If you’re caught, you’ll hang for highway robbery—no one will care about your justice.
    ‘I will,’ he said aloud to the empty room. ‘I’ll care.’
    He drained his mug to wash down the last of the pie, then took up his bedroom candle to light his way up the stairs. The echo of his boots on the bare boards whispered around him.
    Fool, fool.
    * * *
    Charity liked living in Allingford. Her fellow players were friendly, as were the townsfolk. Of the more noble families, only Sir Mark and Lady Beverley afforded her more than a distant nod if they saw her in the street, but she was accustomed to that. Actresses were not quite respectable . Her first appearance at the theatre was followed by equally successful performances in the tragedy Jane Shore and another comedy, The Busy Body . Charity knew both plays very well and they did not overtax her at all, so when she was not rehearsing and the weather was clement she enjoyed hiring a gig and driving herself around the lanes. She had grown up not fifteen miles from here, in Saltby, and although she determined not to visit the village, nor to go anywhere within her father’s jurisdiction as magistrate, the countryside around Allingford was familiar and welcoming. Her maid did not approve of these solitary outings and tried to dissuade her, but Charity only laughed at her.
    ‘What harm can come to me if I stay close to Allingford?’
    ‘There’s highwaymen, for a start,’ retorted Betty. ‘They still haven’t caught the rogue who held us up on the Scarborough Road.’
    ‘The Dark Rider.’ The rogue who kissed me in this very house.
    Charity had neither seen nor heard anything of him since. She had scoured the newspapers for reports of the mysterious highwayman and had spoken to her fellow players about him, but there was no information. However, she had no intention of explaining any of that to her maid.
    ‘Surely a highwayman will be patrolling the coaching road and I mean to explore the byways. I shall not see him again.’
    Charity was not sure she really believed that and even less sure that she wanted it to be true. Betty tried again.
    ‘You might meet your father.’
    That thought was much more alarming. Charity wondered if she had been wise to confide so much about her past to Betty, but the maid had proven herself a good friend over the years. However, Charity would not be dissuaded.
    ‘I doubt it. And as long as I stay this side of the county line he cannot hurt me.’
    Betty frowned, her usually dour countenance becoming positively forbidding.
    ‘He must know by now that you are in Allingford. Someone will have told him that Charity Weston is appearing at the theatre.’
    ‘Mayhap he will think it a mere coincidence that an actress has the same name as his daughter.’
    ‘And mayhap he is planning some mischief.’
    ‘Nonsense, Betty. It is more than a dozen years since I left Saltby. Phineas has probably forgotten all about me.’
    ‘Not he, mistress. From all you have told me of the man, he will not rest while you are in Allingford. Your success will be like a thorn in his flesh.’
    ‘Well, that