Stealing the Bride by Elizabeth Boyle Read Free Book Online Page B

a half days.” He made the pronouncement as if traveling such a distance was but a hop across a lane. “But the shortest road ain’t always the best route, milord. Especially if you don’t want to be caught by an irate father or a pack of fortune hunters bent on stealing the bride for themselves.”
    Temple nodded. “So which way would you go?”
    “This way,” Elton said, nodding at the road onto which they were turning.
    “And this way is?”
    Elton grinned. “Running parallel to the main road. The towns are little more spread out, but there’s change enough of horses along the way to make the journey in good time.”
    “How can you be certain?”
    “I know.”
    When Elton used that tone, Temple didn’t bother questioning him. He knew a good deal about Elton’s past, but there were some unaccounted years in the man’s history. The few things he had said over the years left Temple with the suspicion that his manservant had been on more than his fair share of country roads and lonely highways…and not always with the best of intentions.
    Still, Elton’s instincts—ill-gained or not—served them well. They got lucky about ten miles up the road.
    The innkeeper glanced down at his shoes and shuffled his feet as they made their inquiries concerning Lord Cordell and Lady Diana. From the man’s wary expression, Temple knew the innkeeper had seen them, though it might take some convincing to get the man to be a bit forthcoming.
    Temple pulled out his money pouch and gave it a jangle. As he’d suspected, it was just the right incentive to unhinge the man’s memory. The fellow didn’t need to know it contained only a collection of nails, since Temple never had enough money to make up a good bribe.
    Still, the deception worked, as it had for years.
    “Now that you mention it, there was a coach came by here some hours ago that might be who you are looking for.”
    “And they went…?” Temple continued to prod. Lawd, it was like getting an extra hundred pounds out of his grandfather.
    The man scratched his chin and gave Temple a long, long look. “Are you the aggrieved parti ?” The man winked and leaned over to nudge Elton. “That’s French you know. I’ve always wanted to say that, ever since I read it in one of those lovey-dovey novels my wife likes to read. She was a vicar’s daughter, learnt all her letters and more.”
    “How lucky for you, sir,” Elton said, as if that was the most interesting thing he’d heard all day.
    Temple wasn’t so patient. “Yes, yes, that’s very nice, but which way did this coach go?”
    “Hmm,” the man said. “You never did say, are you the aggrieved parti or not?” he repeated, mangling the poor French language enough that it should have been a crime.
    In France, it most likely was.
    “No, I’m not.”
    The innkeeper tipped his head and studied Temple. “Don’t see why you care then.”
    “I don’t care. The lady is of no interest to me.”
    “I think he doth protest too much,” the man joked, nudging Elton once again. “That’s from some famous playwright. Me wife likes to say it when I tell her I haven’t been drinking too much ale. Which I usually have been.” He glanced once again at Temple. “So you protest all you doth, milord. But I’m thinking a man doesn’t come all this way to fetch back a wayward lady unless he’s got a stake in the matter.”
    Demmit if Elton didn’t smirk at the innkeeper’s assessment. If it hadn’t been for his years of immeasurable loyalty, Temple would have strangled his servant.
    “I assure you, sir, I am not the aggrieved parti .”
    The man chuckled. “Turned you down flat, did she? Oh, women, they do like to put us men in a lather, don’t they? I daresay you know that, milord, coming all this way to set her straight.”
    Instead Temple took a deep breath and tapped down the urge to issue another denial concerning Diana. “Does it truly matter, sir?” he said through gritted teeth. “Her father is