Practice to Deceive by Patricia Veryan Read Free Book Online

afternoon!”
    Amused, Mr. Gordon said, “So she did not spot you, eh, Corporal?”
    The sturdy man eyed Penelope with grudging admiration. “You did not betray that you’d seen me, miss. Or seem afraid. Perhaps you fancied me to be someone you knew?”
    â€œI thought you might be a poor … Jacobite.…” With the word came full recollection and she ended with a faint cry of dismay.
    The two men exchanged grim glances. Gordon demanded harshly, “You have a fondness for traitors, madam?”
    Penelope sprang up and confronted her captors, trembling with agitation. “I have a fondness for honour, sir. In war or peace. And a disgust—a loathing for … for cruelty. Oh, you must let me go at once, for—for I—” But grief betrayed her, and her voice scratched into silence.
    Mr. Gordon had stood also. Very pale now, he fixed her with a piercing stare and asked in a fierce half-whisper, “Have you seen cruelty, then? Is—is that why you were rushing about in so distracted a way?”
    Her nerves tightened. He might be a military spy. He might have captured her to discover if her family was harbouring an escaped rebel. However she despised Uncle Joseph, he was her father’s brother. If she spoke, she could well be condemning him and his silly, spiteful wife to a traitor’s death. And Quentin, beyond doubt, would be hauled to the Tower and executed. It was not to be thought of. She looked away from that penetrating scrutiny. “I have been … given in marriage to a man I —very much dislike,” she faltered. “I was running away rather than—”
    â€œFustian!” His iron hands gripped her arms once again. “However grieved you may be, you’d have stayed for a valise, or some of your clothing and belongings. And what has your betrothal to do with Jacobites and your dislike of cruelty? Speak, woman! Or—by God—”
    The Corporal came over to say urgently, “Easy, sir! There’s nought to be gained by terrifying the lass!”
    â€œIf she has seen my bro—”
    â€œMr. Gordon!”
    The gruff voice, sharp with warning, cut across the final word, but it had been sufficient for Penelope. She knew now where she had seen Gordon’s likeness in the past. As he released her, she demanded with frantic eagerness, “Sir, are you related to Mr. Quentin Chandler?”
    He jerked as if she had struck him. Under his breath, the Corporal swore and stepped closer. His face taut and strained, Gordon hesitated, then replied, “He is my brother. Have you seen him?”
    â€œYes! Oh, yes! He is at Highview.”
    The Corporal exhaled a hissing breath. “But—he’s dead, eh?”
    â€œNo! Or—or at least, when I ran from the house he was alive.”
    â€œTell me, I beg you.” Gordon Chandler’s voice quivered with emotion. “Have they sent for the authorities? Do they mean to give him up? Or are they helping him?”
    Aghast, Penelope stared at him, then dropped her face into her hands and sank on to the sofa once more. “If only they were!” She raised a pale, sad face. “It shames me to tell you, Mr. Chandler. Your brother is wounded, and—and it would seem he carries a most deadly secret.”
    â€œHere’s treachery!” growled the Corporal. “I told you, sir, that the Major should’ve trusted no man, however he—”
    His haggard gaze still fixed upon Penelope, Chandler made an impatient, silencing gesture. “Who told you that, Miss Montgomery?”
    â€œI overheard. They— Oh, sir, you must help him! They are—are questioning him. Perhaps, even as we speak! He is in dire need of a surgeon, and I fear that—if we do not hasten…”
    Gordon uttered a strangled sound and turned away, shoulders hunched. Pacing to stand close before her, the Corporal eyed Penelope grimly. “Are you