Lady Sophia's Rescue (Traditional Regency Romance) Read Online Free PDF

black eyes on her, lowered his shocked gaze to the musket, then dropped his dagger.
    Thompson swiftly picked it up and thanked her.
    “Quick, Dottie!” she said. “Your sash! We must tie up this man.”
    A trembling Dottie obliged by removing her sash and lowering herself from the carriage to aid the valet.
    Then Sophia trained her musket on the blonde who was doing his best to harm the noble Mr. Birmingham, but the latter had the audacity to look up at her and laugh! “I’ll need no rescuing from a woman.”
    With that comment, Mr. Birmingham shoved his opponent’s face into the mud, came to his feet, and planted a muddy boot on the blonde’s back. Though the blond man was huge, he brought to mind an infant as he lay there kicking and screaming while his limbs flailed about in the mud.
    Indeed, she had no cause to come to Mr. Birmingham’s assistance. Her mouth gaping open, she eyed the man to whom she owed so much. His sturdy hand wiped over his face to reveal two emerald eyes flashing in cakes of mud. His disheveled golden hair was streaked with mud, and she would vow that the impeccably clothed man had never been more filthy in his privileged life.
    And in her very privileged life, she had never seen a more magnificent creature!
    Removing her own sash, she came to him and held it out. “Should you like to tie up the man?”
    “A very good idea.” He took the blue satin. “You stand on his back while I do the honors.”
    Without a care to the mud that ringed the hem of her dress, she complied. As she watched Mr. Birmingham outmaneuver the squeaming man, her admiration for him grew.
    When he finished, he hurried to assist the coachman, though it looked to Sophia as if the burly driver had matters well in hand.
    A few minutes later, she surveyed the damage. Three men in Finkel livery were tied with women’s sashes, and a fourth lay in the mud clutching his bleeding side while speaking in a most incoherent (though occasionally vile) manner. The top of Mr. Birmingham’s costly carriage had been all but blown off, and his wonderfully brave servants were hobbling about in a wretched mire of silt.
    She felt dreadfully guilty. She was the cause of all this. Innocent people had been put in jeopardy because she had made a horrible mistake. Had her valiant Mr. Birmingham been wounded or -- heaven help her -- killed, she would have perished on the spot. Or entered a convent to spend the rest of her life trying to atone for her wickedness.
    Thank goodness she would be spared that.
    His eyes sparkling with mischief, Mr. Birmingham met her gaze. “Since I’ll have to get a new carriage anyway, I don’t think a bit of mud will hurt.” He assisted her in one door while Thompson gave his hand to Dottie, who climbed in the other side.
    After the coach started moving, Mr. Birmingham lowered his brows and spoke. “Did I or did I not hear Miss Dorothea Door scream? Earlier?”
    Sophia and Dottie exchanged worried glances. “I can explain,” Sophia said, her heart racing as tried to come up with a plausible explanation. But just as it had done the night before when he inquired about their surname, her mind was not cooperating.
    “And?” he asked.
    She heaved a big sigh. Then she thought of something. “My dear sister could once speak, you see. Before the terrible accident that happened before I was born. Ever since poor Dorothea has been mute. She does possess the ability to cry and to scream, but she positively cannot seem to make herself say words.” Sophia slid back against the velvet squabs and prayed he would pry no more.
    Her prayers went unheeded. “What,” he asked, “was the nature of the unfortunate accident?”
    She shook her head, biding for time. “It was perfectly dreadful.” But how, you idiot? she asked herself. Then a most agreeable explanation came to mind. “You see, Dorothea was once a twin. She and her twin sister spoke to each other with ease in a language that was peculiar unto them. Then one