Miss Marcie's Mischief Read Online Free PDF Page B

so much mash in his fine boots. The woman was obviously nothing more than a skilled strumpet. Why in the blazes didn't Cole Coachman recognize that fact?
    Marcie fumed as she watched Cole Coachman bend over the woman's outstretched hand, then place a beseeching kiss atop her fine-gloved fingers. A lock of his dark hair tumbled down across his handsome brow as he righted himself and gave the woman a heartfelt smile.
    The woman blushed.
    Cole Coachman preened.
    Marcie wanted to gag.
    The next few moments were near impossible for Marcie to bear as Cole Coachman made a complete cake of himself, profusely apologizing to the lady, offering her any assistance he could, and even going so far as to stating he would whisk her not to the nearest inn, but to her appointed destination.
    Too bad for Marcie that the lady's destination was none other than the inn at Burford.
    Marcie found herself left forlornly alone in the middle of the road as Miss Deirdre tucked her gloved hand into the crook of Cole Coachman's arm and allowed him to lead her to his Mail coach. The lady then ordered her portly driver to remain with her "beloved horses" while she, in Cole Coachman's very capable hands, traveled onward to the nearest inn, at which point help would be alerted and sent to the driver's aid. There remained only the monumental task of transferring the lady's needed luggage onto the coach.
    And what a mountain of luggage it proved to be! Even John Reeve was pressed into service by the suddenly moon-eyed Cole Coachman.
    Marcie felt a moment's pique, watching as the two men restrapped wine barrels, rearranged game and bandboxes in order to make way for the lady's excessive need for space. They certainly hadn't gone to such fuss when confronted earlier with Marcie's single portmanteau!
    To Marcie's further dismay, Miss Deirdre took up an entire seat within the coach for herself, leaving Nan crowded against the opposite squabs, and leaving Marcie with no seat at all.
    Marcie gnashed her teeth, deciding she'd rather walk to Burford than be forced to inquire if Miss Deirdre would deign to scoot over an inch or two to make room for her.
    Nan, comfortably squashed between hat boxes and having, to her obvious glee, found a box of sweetmeats with which to content her ravenous appetite, frowned when she spied Marcie peering into the coach.
    "Oh, Marcie, I dareswear there is not a bit of extra room in here," she said between mouthfuls. "Mayhap you could ride on the hind boot with Reeve. Or better still, on the bench with Cole. You always told me how you adored riding into the wind while in the West Country. Just think, you could have your fill of wind this night!"
    Miss Deirdre, lounging against the squabs in all her silks and furs, cast a cursory glance in Marcie's direction.
    "You are a West Country girl?" asked she. "How quaint. And how marvelous that you will find the snow and wind to your liking. I, for one, would near perish should I be forced to endure this foul weather for overly long."
    Marcie deduced the overly scented she-wolf would no doubt perish should she get so much as a toe chilled.
    Nan passed the lady some sweetmeats. "I've some bonbons, too, if you like."
    "Bonbons? Oh, how I adore bonbons!"
    Marcie felt her stomach turn topsy-turvy. There was absolutely no way she would climb into the coach and suffer the sight—or smell—of sweetmeats, let alone bonbons.
    "I shall ride on the hind boot," Marcie announced, willing to brave the elements. Anything would be preferable to spending time in a confined space with bonbons and the too-pampered Miss Deirdre.
    Marcie closed the door of the coach. With her head held high, she headed for the hind boot.
    "What the deuce are you doing now?" demanded Cole Coachman.
    Marcie spun round, quite surprised to find the man trailing her. She had assumed he'd forgotten her presence in all the activity.
    "I am merely finding a place to roost on this stuffed coach of yours," she told him.
    "Then why the devil