The Highwayman's Daughter by Henriette Gyland Read Free Book Online Page A

grave while she hummed a lullaby for her baby brother. Yet again she pondered her mother’s last words, which might have been caused by fever, although she’d seemed lucid enough.
    What could she possibly have meant?
    Jack parted company from his father by the gates to Lampton Hall and rode home through the estate gardens rather than following the lane to the front of the house. Under a large oak tree he stopped and surveyed his father’s mansion. The hall was perfectly situated among a wood of stately old oak trees but the sandstone houseitself was set back, as if erected on an island of rolling green lawns.
    The mansion was relatively new, having been designed in the previous century by a pupil of the great Inigo Jones. Influenced by Italian Palladian architecture, Lampton Hall was a smaller version of the Queen’s House at Greenwich. The house was built over four storeys, and the main floor was accessed by a flight of external steps and south-facing portico. Tall windows ran right around the building like large dark eyes reflecting the sunlight.
    However, for the moment Jack was oblivious to its splendour. Deep in thought, he stayed seated on his horse, pondering what his next move should be. It seemed prudent to begin his search in the forested area that he had identified on the map, but he was aware that it was a sizeable locality.
    As his horse grew bored and started grazing, Jack saw movement out of the corner of his eye and shielded the sun with his hand to see better. In the distance Alethea was striding purposefully across the lawn, with Rupert in an embroidered coat and wig trailing twenty feet behind her.
    Jack grinned to himself. Anyone accompanying Alethea on her morning walk only had himself to blame; she never strolled or sauntered but belted ahead as if her very life depended on it. Not even her polonaise gown of dove-grey taffeta seemed to hamper her forward movement.
    He was just about to spur the lazy horse on and join them when Rupert caught up with Alethea and grabbed her arm, forcing her to turn around. Jack’s grin became a frown; Rupert spoke urgently and Alethea wrested her arm away.
    Another fight? Jack sighed. They seemed to have become more frequent of late. Most probably Rupert had made some minor quip which had set her off; Alethea was known for having a fiery temper.
    He nudged the reluctant horse forward to meet them, dismounted when Alethea caught sight of him, and took the horse by the bit. She ran up and flung her arms around his neck, nearly toppling him over. The startled horse whinnied and shied away, the whites of its eyes stark against the chestnut coat. Jack reached out to put a steadying hand on its neck.
    ‘Jack, are you all right?’ she cried. ‘I just heard what happened. I swear, if that brigand has injured you, I don’t know what I’ll do!’
    ‘I’m absolutely fine.’ He returned the embrace and her innocent affection, as always a little overwhelmed by Alethea’s forcefulness, and then extricated himself gently from her stranglehold with a reassuring smile. ‘We both are.’
    He glanced in Rupert’s direction, and Alethea followed his eyes with a look of loathing. She stepped back and crossed her arms.
    ‘
He
has been following me all morning to make sure I don’t meet anyone interesting,’ she hissed. ‘I swear he’s nothing but a scarlet hypocrite. As if all his friends are suitable!’ Scowling furiously, she sent her brother another glare.
    Jack raised his eyebrows. ‘He’s your brother and he’s devoted to you. As am I.’
    ‘Hah!’
    Rupert caught up with them, and once more Jack had to marvel at his cousin’s effortless elegance. Not a single wig hair was out of place, nor did his face appear shiny from his exertions, in stark contrast to Alethea, who looked hot and cross, like a cat on a cauldron lid. ‘Morning, cousin,’ he said to Jack, ‘I see you’ve already partaken of a bit of exercise.’
    ‘I rode into Hounslow to speak with the