Must Love Breeches Read Online Free PDF Page A

had the most undisciplined expressions he had ever encountered in a lady. “Oh, of course. Fine. I know. I’m being a party pooper. If you’re going to do something at all, you might as well do it right, my mother used to say. A bit tired, I guess. Don’t mind me, y’all have been nice. Really. Appreciate it. I’m going to catch the subway down the street and go home.”
    “The subway?” Though he and Miss Byron spoke at the same time, her voice held a slight stammer.
    “Oh, yeah, you guys call it a tube, I keep forgetting. Anyway, toodle-oo, as you Brits say. And thanks again.” She pulled her arm from his, her bare fingers slipping past his gloved one, waved and walked away from them. Alone.
    Phineas flexed his now empty hand, dropped it to his side, and tried to recall earlier conversations with Colonials. They did use different words and expressions, and were informal in their speech, to be sure, but this one made the others look as if they could converse with the King himself and not make anyone blush. Moreover, because she was determined to walk away from them alone, he knew he had but one choice.
    “One moment, Miss Rochon, if you please. We will accompany you.”
    “You don’t need to. Thanks, though.”
    “I insist.” He searched the line of carriages amassed on this side of Grosvenor Square and hailed Mrs. Somerville’s carriage.
    “Really, I’m fine. It’s not very far.”
    Devil take it, she sounded annoyed. Keeping one eye on Miss Rochon, he watched Mrs. Somerville’s carriage approach. He handed the elder lady in. Miss Rochon was now several paces away.
    “One moment, Miss Rochon, please.” For propriety’s and expediency’s sake, he instructed the driver to follow them. With that accomplished, he focused his attention on the exasperating Colonial. “I will not hear another word of protest.”
    “Fine.”
    With Miss Rochon and Miss Byron on either arm, he proceeded to the corner, with Mrs. Somerville following in her carriage. At first, the silence was amiable, and because their conversations had been baffling so far, he deemed it wise to remain silent. However, as they neared the corner, Miss Rochon walked slower and slower. He risked a glance. The skin around her eyes and delicate cheekbones was stretched tight. Confusion and, if he was not much mistaken, fear, clouded her cinnamon-colored eyes. Her nostrils flared slightly.
    She glanced frantically from one spot to another and appeared ready to cast up her accounts.
    Alarmed, he edged closer, in case he was called upon to relieve her evident distress. He matched his pace to hers.
    They reached the corner of Davies Street and turned left. She came to an abrupt stop. The other three street corners and the little plaza across the street received her slow perusal.
    A tremble went through her body, and her hand tightened its grip on his arm. “But, I know the tube station is here. I made a point of checking.” She peered up and down the street, panic glazing her eyes. “More horses and carriages,” she whispered. “Okay, this is getting a little weird. This doesn’t look anything like I remember. Where’s the Hog in the Pound?”
    “The what?” asked Miss Byron.
    Miss Rochon did not answer, but continued her frantic inspection of the block. She swung around and looked at him, eyes narrowed. “Did you guys cordon off the whole freakin’ block for this thing? Cart off your cute red phone booths? There’s not a single car or bike to be seen.” She pulled her arm away. “Your reenactor buddies are taking this too far. I mean, everyone’s in costume up and down this street, also. The gas lamps are a nice touch, but―” She glanced down and pointed. “And, is that horse poop? Seriously?”
    What nonsense was she babbling now? Phineas stared.
    She punched him in the shoulder. “Knock it off, will you?”
    Phineas blinked. And blinked again. He was supremely confident this was the first occasion in his thirty-one years he had