Carola Dunn Read Online Free PDF Page B

shaking her.
    “How dare you defy me!” he shouted, ignoring the crash of the door. “You’ll do what I say or suffer the consequences.” He raised his hand and hit the girl across the face.
    John was upon him in a moment. He seized the back of his collar and swung him around to meet a right uppercut that stretched him dazed on the floor.
    Miss Nuthall looked equally dazed. On her white face, the imprint of a hand stood out in painful red. There was a blank look in her eyes and she stood motionless, leaning against the chair to which she had reached for support when the man involuntarily released her.
    John started towards her, then caught a movement on the floor. The man rose to one knee, stood up somewhat shakily, and glared at his assailant. He had bitten his lip and blood was trickling down his chin.
    “Who the devil are you?” John demanded, putting into his tone all the haughtiness of generations of ducal ancestors.
    “Joshua Exbridge.” He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his mouth. “And who the devil are you to interfere between a man and his niece? I’ll thank you to keep your nose out of my business.”
    “Lord John Danville, at your service, sir.” John’s bow was a masterpiece of arrogant contempt. “An assault on my brother’s guest is most certainly my business.”
    Mr. Exbridge seemed to wilt a little, though his truculence did not lessen. “Lord Danville won’t thank you for this day’s work, my lord. I’ve only come to fetch my ward home, as is my right and duty. The ungrateful chit ran off without a word to anyone and it’s taken me half a year to track her down.”
    John glanced at Miss Nuthall. She had not stirred. The red patch on her cheek had faded a little but the outline of a hand was still clearly visible. He clenched his fists, suddenly blazingly angry again.
    “Get out.” He stood over the smaller man, his voice soft with menace. “Get out, before I throw you out. And do not dare to set foot in this house again.”
    Exbridge backed away. “You haven’t heard the last of this, my lord,” he said shrilly, then turned and hurried from the room.
    The girl had sunk into the chair. John hurried to her side. He reached out to touch her shoulder, to reassure, to comfort.
    Flinching, she eluded his touch, started from the chair, and sped past him, wild terror in her eyes.
     

Chapter 4
     
    Shrieks of laughter met Rebecca’s ears as she opened the nursery door. An uncertain baritone was singing, “Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross.”
    Her refuge had been invaded by the enemy.
    However, it was difficult to be afraid of a gentleman intent on bouncing a little girl on his knee. Lord John glanced up and flushed crimson but gamely continued:
    “...To see a fine lady upon a white horse.
    Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes,
    She shall have music wherever she goes.”
    Mary crowed with glee and demanded, “More, more.”
    “It’s Mary’s turn,” explained Ned gloomily to Rebecca.  He was sitting on the floor, very straight-backed, with his new book balanced on his knees. “I be good. Will you read to me, Aunt Beckie? Tom Thumb?”
    “Please,” said Lord John.
    “Please,” repeated Ned. “Please, Aunt Beckie, will you?”
    “More!” insisted Mary.
    Her uncle looked a trifle harassed. “I don’t know any more riding songs.”
    Rebecca smiled at him. “Surely you remember ‘To market, to market?’ And then there’s ‘This is the way the farmer rides.’” She took a seat close to the fire for it was a raw morning. Beyond the windows, grey sleet was falling, which doubtless explained why Lord John was indoors being a horse instead of outdoors riding one. It was vexatious. For the last two days she had, by claiming indisposition, avoided seeing anyone but the children and their mother, and the latter only in the dim light of her curtained chamber. Still, the mark on her cheek was fading. She must soon resume her duties for Lady Parr, whose messages