Miss Mischief - A Regency Romance Read Online Free PDF Page B

decided that, generally speaking, life was remarkably good. His mother had been quite right. All he’d needed was some space to clear his thoughts, something the constant distractions of travel provided very well. Rising to his feet, he dusted the crumbs off himself and called to his horse.
    ‘Come along then. Much more of that grass and you’ll start to look like a barrel.’ An ill deserved observation, as Hermes was the picture of svelte refinement. He flicked his ears forward and walked across to Marcus placidly. ‘What a good natured fellow you are, my friend,’ he observed cheerfully, swinging himself up into the saddle. ‘I have no idea where Harry found you but you’re worth your weight in gold. Happily, my brother-in-law has a great deal more of it than I have, bless him.’
    They set off again. He had not gone but a mile and had entered the forest they had been approaching for some time. It was a pretty place, and branches of ash and alder arched over the road ahead. Not half a mile in, the peace and quiet was broken with the sound of raised voices. One voice, and the words that were uttered, was perfectly audible.
    ‘How dare you!’
    A woman’s voice, sharp with fury. Marcus pulled Hermes to a halt and cocked his head to listen. He heard a lower rumble of a male voice, too indistinct to make out clearly but there was no doubt the accents were far from refined.
    ‘Now what do we have here?’ he muttered and, turning his horse’s head, he headed off the road and into the trees, picking his way forward cautiously as he followed the sound of voices to the source. Sure enough, a clearing opened up some little way ahead for he could see where the trees thinned, admitting more sunlight into a glade of sorts. Marcus dismounted and tied Hermes’ reigns to a branch before stepping cautiously forward. The conversation was perfectly audible now and he thought there might be a reason to take it slowly.
    ‘All you got ta do is give us yer pretties, like,’ a low, gruff voice said, sounding slightly exasperated.
    Marcus peered ahead and saw a young female mounted on a sorrel mare that was prancing nervously from foot to foot. The girl was very young, by the look of it, and remarkably lovely, a fact that was in no way disguised by the expression on her face. She was regarding the two men confronting her with scowling disdain. Even from where he stood he could clearly see it was disdain, not fear.
    ‘What pretties might they be?’ she demanded impatiently. ‘In case you have missed something, I haven’t got any valuables. I am riding, you great lummox! I do not usually wear the family jewels on a ride.’
    This appeared to be entirely true for, while the girl looked very smart in her riding habit, she was certainly not hung about with glittering gems. Still, Marcus was well aware that footpads, even country footpads he presumed, would want to walk away with something. He could only see the back of both men but neither appeared to be particularly prepossessing, being squat and scruffy. Their tricorne hats were pushed forward to better conceal their faces and from behind he could see that mufflers had been tied around their chins. He assumed they were holding guns or some kind of weapon or surely the exasperated young chit they were trying to rob would have ridden right over them. She looked as though she might be inclined to do so anyway.
    Under the circumstances, he thought it might be best to intervene immediately.
    Bending, he picked up a stick and moved forward quietly. Happily, his quarry’s attention was all for the female before him and, even though her eyes opened a little wider at the sight of him, he managed to thrust the stick hard into the crook of the man’s back while his left arm shot out to circle the villain’s neck. The man struggled briefly at this sudden change of circumstances before the situation caught up with him properly.
    ‘Hold very still or I will blow a hole through your guts,’