Miss Weston's Masquerade Read Online Free PDF Page A

him.
    ‘Probably. There are horse pistols in the holster beside you. If we’re attacked, it’s the groom’s job to fire them.’ He glanced down at her. ‘Don’t worry, I’m teasing you, we’re safe enough in daylight and there are other travellers on the road. Besides, the Mail is a far more tempting target. If you look out at the crossroads, you might see a corpse on the gibbet,’ he added slyly.
    Cassandra was spared the sight which was probably a good thing. He could do without her throwing up her early breakfast. It was nearly two o'clock before they arrived at the Shoulder of Mutton in Dartford and he heard Cassandra’s stomach grumble as she climbed down from the high seat. She stood quietly to one side like a good servant, while he gave orders to the ostlers for the return of his team and looked over the horses which were to replace them for the next stage to Chatham.
    ‘There’s time for some bread and cheese and ale.’ Nicholas shouldered his way into the inn and found them a corner table. ‘I should get a private parlour with you here, but this will be good practice for you. Just remember to act like a boy, and drink your ale, don’t sip it.’
    Cassandra copied the way he lifted his tankard and drank deeply, then shuddered as the bitter liquid ran down her throat. ‘It’s disgusting . How can men drink this for pleasure?’
    Nicholas listened with half his attention. He turned, one arm across the back of the settle, and watched the arrival of the Dover coach which had just clattered into the yard and was disgorging its noisy cargo.
    ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked uneasily.
    ‘Nothing, I hope, so long as no-one who knows me is on board and stops to talk. Drink up, we’d better get on our way.’
    They pushed their way back through the group, an ill-assorted collection of all social classes from young blades to plainly dressed artisans, all stretching to relieve the stiffness caused by the coach’s rattling progress.
    Beside him he felt rather than heard Cassie let her breath out in a sigh of relief as they regained the road without anyone hailing him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I hadn’t thought that I might be an embarrassment to you if anyone discovers me.’
    ‘No-one will,’ he said, as much to reassure himself as her as he drove the new team well up to their bits down the old Roman road to Rochester.
    The green countryside, with its rows of neatly trained hops marching up the slopes and the groups of oast houses, was pleasant enough to distract her until Rochester, it seemed. She craned around to look at the castle and the ships lying at anchor on the wide Medway, but Nicholas pushed the tired team on to Chatham for the next change.
    They made good time, but still it was well past five before they entered Canterbury and he noticed that even Cassandra’s enthusiasm for sightseeing was blunted by tiredness. She passed the cathedral with scarcely more than a glance at the twin towers soaring over the narrow streets. They changed horses for the last time at Bridge.
    The good weather that had favoured them all day had mellowed into a still, warm June evening and their shadows were lengthening on the road before them as they drove, at last, down the long hill into Dover.
    Nicholas flexed his shoulders, the thought of a hot bath beckoning like a siren’s song. So far so good. No-one had pointed or stared, no-one had appeared to have taken any notice of the slim youth beside him. It seemed they would get away with this insane masquerade after all.
     
    The castle crouched on the clifftop, dominating the town that straggled down the valley to the sea’s edge. Cassandra sat up, straightened her weary shoulders and crossed her arms like the perfect servant. She ached in every limb from the jolting of the road, yet all she had done was sit alongside Nicholas.
    He had driven unfamiliar horses for mile after mile, negotiated potholes and tollgates, avoided village urchins and stray dogs,