Memoirs of a Hoyden Read Online Free PDF Page A

had plagued me earlier, and decided this was the time to find some answers.
    I got quietly up from the sofa, pulled my pelisse around me abba-style, and went softly forward. “You’re still awake!” he exclaimed.
    “Shhh! I don’t want to wake the others. Come to the sofa a moment.”
    A leap of astonishment lit his pale eyes. The idiot thought I was planning to seduce him! “I have a few questions I’d like to ask,” I said. Ignoring that brief misunderstanding seemed the best way to handle it.
    Kestrel was less subtle. “That’s a relief!” he murmured.
    “Ah, you feared I was after more wood. There’s plenty to last till morning.” I sat demurely on one end of the sofa. Kestrel as far away from me as possible. “I find it peculiar the highwaymen left so many valuables behind, don’t you?” I began.
    “The weather might account for their haste.”
    “It’s surprising they were out in such weather at all. Mostly found it unusual. But being out, why did they not collect our jewelry—and my reticule?”
    “Are you complaining that they missed a few items?” he asked.
    “Not complaining precisely, but it is odd. You are the only one they actually searched,” I added pensively.
    “I should think the cut of Wideman’s jacket was enough to disqualify him. And a vicar wouldn’t be carrying any money.”
    “Cut bait, Lord Kestrel. It was that letter hidden under your waistcoat they were after. The rest of it was a sham to make us think it was a regular highway holdup. What was in that letter?”
    “It was a personal matter.”
    “Highwaymen don’t steal billets-doux. You were coming from London toward Dover. The coast is expecting a visit from Boney any day now. Is it possible you were carrying a missive from Whitehall to the army stationed at the coast?”
    “You have an active imagination, Miss Mathieson.”
    “I didn’t imagine that they called me mam’selle, and that they said ‘ chevaux.’ I didn’t quite catch it at first, but immediately after he said it, the bandit cut the team loose. That’s what he said— chevaux. In case you aren’t aware of it, Lord Kestrel, chevaux is French for horses. Are you a ... spy?”
    My voice rose on the last word. What astonished me was not that spies abounded at this time and place, but that such an incompetent sort of gentleman as sat with me was of their number. First his curricle broke down, then he got held up, and instead of going after the enemy, he hung around this shack, chopping wood and drinking coffee. Really, it was incredible.
    “What if I am?” he asked.
    “If you are, you’d best get after those Frenchies before they deliver your message to their superior. At least ... I shouldn’t think the ringleader was risking his life in a simple holdup. He’d have one of his minions do that.”
    His chiseled nose pinched in annoyance. “Why do you think I left earlier?” he demanded fiercely. He obviously didn’t like to have his actions questioned.
    “You found no trace of them?”
    “You couldn’t find St. Paul’s in that downpour. As I said, I ended up walking in a circle. It seemed best to catch a few winks and be fresh to go after them in the morning.”
    I nodded in agreement. “We must set out at the break of day,” I said.
    “We?” Kestrel’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, which was rather low on his forehead.
    “There are three of them—unless they’ve met up with colleagues. You couldn’t handle them alone when they held you up earlier. Obviously you need help.”
    “I don’t require the help of a lady.”
    “Try, if you can overlook your prejudice, and tell me truthfully, who do you think would be more help—the vicar and Wideman, or myself and Mr. Kidd?”
    “The vicar and Wideman,” he replied obstinately.
    “Just what I have come to expect from you, Lord Kestrel, incompetence!”
    I waited for his eyebrows to disappear again, and was surprised to see something like a smirk settle on his saturnine