The Runaway Countess by Leigh LaValle Read Free Book Online

“What does the man know of heroism, Mazie? He knows nothing of honor, of sacrifice.” He looked away, toward his men. After a moment, he glanced back at her. “Who are his friends?”
    “I met none of his acquaintances. I don’t believe he was in Radford very long.” This mix of fabrication and truth was harder to organize than she imagined. She was fully sweating now, not just her palms.
    “Where was he before he came here?”
    “Traveling, I think. He talked of fighting Napoleon.”
    “A soldier?” He looked skeptical.
    “So he said.”
    “He must be very charming.” His tone was salty as dried fish.
    “Utterly charming. Witty and handsome. Tall and strong and quick to smile.” She exaggerated a wistful look just to annoy Trent. Truly, even she had to admit Roane was handsome.
    “Sounds like a fantasy. Without the robbing and treason part. I should like you to sketch him when we return to the hall.”
    Mazie swallowed. “Very well.” She could always draw her former employer, Mr. Carrington. He deserved to be hunted.
    A breeze ruffled the meadow like a deep exhale. The flowers danced and swayed on their tall spines before the wind moved into the forest. A loose strand of hair tickled Mazie’s cheek and she tucked it back under her hat.
    Trent watched her, an unreadable expression on his face. “What else do you know of him, Mazie. The name of his horse? His tailor? Does he prefer the coast? London? The highlands?”
    “We talked mostly of me, to be honest. I didn’t realize how little I knew of him until recently. He rode a black horse.” That seemed to be harmless enough information. “I-I could not say what his preferences are. He talked of nothing in particular. Compliments mostly, and questions.”
    Trent sighed and scanned the clearing, obviously dissatisfied with the information she was giving him. Without turning back, he walked over to his men, leaving her standing alone in the meadow. She realized her fists were clenched in her skirts and relaxed them. Her shoulders softened of their own account. My, it was difficult weaving together half-lies and half-truths. She watched as he talked with his hired investigators, their hand gestures pointing out different spots in the clearing. The men scattered, each taking a quadrant, and were distressingly thorough as they measured tracks in the dirt and picked through the fire rings. What they could gather as evidence from this place, she hadn’t any idea. Luckily, she had never met Roane here. Not once.
    Trent glanced over and Mazie’s stomach rolled and pitched. Why must he always look so intense? She couldn’t guess the meaning of his stare, only hoped it wasn’t distrust. Or, worse yet, knowing she lied.
    Finally, the men decided to ignore her for a while. She was no wistful wallflower, she was more than happy to sink to a log in the shade and take a moment for herself.
    She looked across the meadow, lush and teeming with midsummer fullness. Yellow butterflies darted across the green grasses and the sound of a stream trickled from nearby. It felt like forever since she had last been outside. She would not think of her small attic room. She would simply sit.
    No, she would not watch Trent either. She would close her eyes.
    The breeze on the meadow brought the sweet scent of summer. Behind her, the deep trees pulled at her. The forest was thick and cool. One could easily get lost there.
    Run , a voice inside her yelled. Run now!
    She opened her eyes. They men were still searching the tall grass. She knew these woods, she knew where to hide. If she had so much as a sixty-second lead on them, she could escape.
    Inch by inch, she slipped off the log and came to a crouched position. No one noticed.
    The rush of blood was loud in her ears, her breathing ragged, and for a moment she feared someone would hear the thump of her heart. But the men only moved farther away, their backs to her.
    Mazie, ever resourceful, took what opportunity was handed to