The Saint and the Sinner by Barbara Cartland Read Free Book Online Page A

he began to lose his temper. “I am taking you back with me now, and on return to the Palace I shall lock you in your bedroom, where you will stay until your uncle returns.”
    “I will not allow you to do anything of the sort!” Pandora answered defiantly.
    “You have no choice,” Prosper Witheridge said, and there was a grim note in his voice that she did not miss.
    As he spoke he reached out and caught hold of her arm.
    His action took her by surprise. She had never imagined he would actually touch her or, as she now realised, drag her away with him.
    She struggled and his fingers bit into the softness of her skin.
    “How dare you touch met” she cried. “Let me go!”
    “You will come with me!” Prosper Witheridge said. “And I only hope that when your uncle returns he will punish you as you so richly deserve for your disgraceful behaviour!”
    As he spoke, he started to drag her across the Salon, Pandora fighting every inch of the way.
    She was very small and he was large, and she realised despairingly that it was a losing battle.
    “Let me go” she cried, and screamed as he pulled her roughly to the door.
    Even as they reached it, it opened and the Earl stood there.
    He was in evening-dress and he looked not only tidier than he had previously, but almost resplendent in a meticulously tied white cravat and a closely fitting evening-coat over the long, hose-like pantaloons which had just come into fashion.
    He stood still in the doorway, and Prosper Witheridge, dragging Pandora by the arm, was forced also to come to a standstill.
    “May I enquire what is going on here?” the Earl asked, his voice icy.
    “You are the Earl of Chartwood?” Prosper Witheridge asked without releasing Pandora.
    “It is for me to ask the questions,” the Earl replied, “as you have come here uninvited.”
    “I have come,” Prosper Witheridge replied, “to take a young girl, who has no right to impose upon Your Lordship, back to where she belongs.”
    “On whose authority?”
    “On mine!” he replied. “I am the private Chaplain to the Very Reverend Bishop of Lindchester!”
    “How nice for you!” the Earl said mockingly. “And does that position entitle you to go round abducting young women from the homes of their relatives?”
    “I am not abducting Miss Stratton,” Prosper Witheridge answered. “Her uncle, the Bishop, left her in my charge and I have just returned to Lindchester to find that she has embarked on this most regrettable escapade, which will deeply grieve those who out of the kindness of their hearts offered her a decent home.”
    “Are you insinuating that my house is an indecent one?” the Earl asked.
    There was a steely note in his voice, but Pandora knew by the look in his eyes that he was enjoying himself.
    Prosper Witheridge was too angry to be cautious.
    “Your Lordship is well aware,” he replied, “that Chart Hall is not a proper place for a young and innocent girl.”
    “Is that your personal opinion?” the Earl questioned. “Because if it is, I should be interested to hear on what grounds you base such an assumption.”
    Prosper Witheridge looked uncomfortable.
    “There is no point in bandying words, Your Lordship,” he said. “I will, with your permission, take Miss Stratton home. I will arrange for her belongings to be collected tomorrow morning.”
    “I do not give my permission!” the Earl replied. “My cousin is here as my guest, and here she may stay for as long as it suits her!”
    “You cannot mean that!” Prosper Witheridge ejaculated.
    “I should have thought that as an educated man you could understand plain English,” the Earl replied.
    For the first time since they had been speaking, Prosper Witheridge released Pandora’s arm.
    “This conversation is absurd,” he said harshly. “What Your Lordship does in your own private life is your affair, but Miss Stratton is too young and too unsophisticated to understand.”
    “To understand what?” the Earl