The Tudor Signet by Carola Dunn Read Free Book Online Page A

bewildered. “Forgive you? But it wasn’t you who shot me, was it?” Her voice was low and sweet, remarkably refined considering her upbringing, and without a trace of a French accent.
    “It was my servant.”
    “I heard you try to stop him. You cannot be blamed, and I hope you haven’t punished him? He was justified in firing on a highwayman. Is Sparrow all right? My horse?”
    “Yes, Jessup is taking good care of him. Jessup was most certainly at fault. It was perfectly obvious you were no ordinary highwayman,” he said dryly, “though I admit I had not guessed you were a female. What on earth possessed you to do anything so absolutely shatterbrained?”
    “I know it was idiotic,” she said, flushing. “I’m very sorry I threatened you with a gun, though it wasn’t loaded, and robbed you, though I did give your money back and didn’t take the stick-pin or anything. But I had to do something.”
    “Why?”
    “Because Ralph--he’s my cousin--was quite in despair. You see, the ring has been in his family for generations. It’s all he has left, as his papa was a shocking gamester and lost the Riddlesworth estate as well as his wife’s fortune. And you need not look at me like that. I know Ralph likes to gamble. He can’t help it, it’s in his blood.”
    “Of course he can help it. If you ask me, he’s simply spoiled.”
    “Oh no,” she said with an earnest air, “quite the reverse. When his parents died and he came to live at Bell-Tor Manor he was only a little boy, yet as a baronet he had too much pride to ask Uncle George for things.”
    “Understandable, I suppose.” Though unrealistic if George Barwith was as heedless as he was reputed to be.
    “It is, isn’t it? So when we grew out of our clothes I was always the one to ask for new ones, but that’s all. Uncle George has been so generous giving us a home all these years that I don’t like to ask for things we don’t really need. Except horses,” she added conscientiously.
    “A necessity,” Malcolm assured her.
    “Oh, and my subscription to the circulating library, but I pay for that out of my allowance now. Ralph wanted an allowance so I asked Uncle George for him, and Uncle George offered me one too. Did I not say he is excessively generous? The subscription is quite expensive but I don’t regret a penny.”
    “I daresay you borrow Gothick novels, like every other young lady of my acquaintance,” he quizzed her in an effort to conceal his anger at both Barwith’s and Riddlesworth’s treatment of her.
    “Yes, I don’t need to borrow serious books because the Manor has an excellent library.” She obviously had no idea the mamas of the young ladies of his acquaintance frowned on the reading of romances, even if that didn’t stop their daughters.
    “And it’s from a novel, I wager, you took the notion of dressing as a highwayman and holding up my carriage!”
    Blushing delightfully, she fidgeted with the fringe of her cashmire shawl. “Yes,” she confessed. “It sounded quite easy.”
    “That doesn’t explain why you were the one to do it.”
    “Well, it was no use whatsoever expecting Ralph make any effort to recover his blasted signet, so I had to. One must be practical.”
    He stared at her for an astonished moment, then burst into laughter. “Practical! My dear Miss Bertrand, I’ve never heard of anything less practical than your utterly romantical scheme!”
    “It would have worked,” she argued with spirit, “if Ragamuffin hadn’t insisted on coming with me. If I hadn’t dashed well had to untie him I’d have got away without being shot.”
    “Before going to such lengths,” he said gently, “you might have tried simply asking me for the ring.”
    She hesitated before saying, “I didn’t think you’d be willing to let me redeem it.”
    Her answer struck him as evasive, the more so because she failed to meet his eye. Surely Riddlesworth’s fondness for his heirloom was insufficient to explain so