Imposter Bride Read Online Free PDF

she remained in a huddled ball,
too paralyzed with cold and fright to move.
    A few moments later, Sophie felt the lap robe being
slipped off her shoulders.
    “You can get up now, Miss Vernet.” Captain Ramsay
reached down for her, and before she could unfold her frozen limbs,
he had lifted her onto the seat. She sank back into the shadows of
the corner of the carriage and shivered.
    “Thank you. For keeping my secret.” Her teeth
chattered so much, she had to clench her jaw together, which made
her voice quaver like that of an old woman. What must he think of
her? “But I assure you that—”
    “Don’t speak. Cover yourself.” The captain held out
the red and black blanket. “This weather is nothing to trifle with.
And you have no cloak.”
    “Thank you.” She pulled the fine wool blanket up to
her ears, grateful to conceal her figure from his inspection,
though she doubted he could see much of her in the encroaching
darkness. Truth be told, she couldn’t see all that much of him
either, only the glint of his sharply ridged nose and the side of
his left brow and cheekbone. It was difficult to guess his age or
temperament, especially when his words were so brisk, bare of all
amusement. Yet, what would he find amusing about sharing his
carriage with a suspected murderess?
    “I want to assure you, sir,” she continued, her
entire body quaking now that she was out of imminent danger, “I did
not kill anyone or steal anything.”
    “That may be true.” He put his hand to the door as
the carriage drew up in front of Maxwell’s, one of the newest and
most fashionable clubs in London, a three-storied building made of
buff-colored sandstone.
    “However,” The captain rose, stooping to keep from
brushing the ceiling. “I have no time to hear your story at the
moment.” He stepped out of the carriage, and was so tall he could
easily view her through the open doorway when he turned back
around. “I shall instruct Charles to see to your needs. Then later
this evening, you may tell me what trouble you are in.”
    Did he expect her to linger in his home while the
constable prowled the streets, looking for her? Better to keep
moving than to stay in one place for long. “I appreciate what you
have done, sir, but I have no intention of presuming upon
your—”
    “Do you have an alternative plan, Miss Vernet?”
    “Not at the moment.”
    “Done then. Good evening.” He touched the brim of
his tricorne and closed the door. Then he said something to
Charles, and the carriage lurched into motion once more. Sophie
wrapped the top of the robe around her cheeks and drew her knees up
to her chest, trying to get warm. Charles would see to her needs?
How wonderful that sounded! A meal would do her good, a warm bath
would be heavenly. She hadn’t been really clean or warm in weeks.
And she hadn’t eaten for two days. Perhaps she would take advantage
of the captain’s kindness, and then with a clearer head, make a
real plan of escape.
    On the other hand, what if his kindness included
repayment of the sort expected from desperate women? No matter how
cold and hungry she was, she would never compromise her virtue for
a bowl of soup.
    Why should she trust this Captain Ramsay anyway?
What if he inquired about her at Maxwell’s and heard what people
were saying about her, or saw one of the handbills about her being
circulated by money-hungry thief-takers? The gossip and the leaflet
would surely make her out as a blood-thirsty killer. A man of
quality—which Ramsay obviously was—surely would not imperil his
good name by harboring a murderess. Most likely after making
inquiries, he would return with a constable and have her
arrested.
    Sophie knew what she had to do, no matter how hungry
she was, how cold, or how tired. She had to slip out of the
carriage at the first possible chance and vanish into the freezing
darkness.
     
    Ian Ramsay strode through the double doors of
Maxwell’s which were regally opened for him by two