Must Love Breeches Read Online Free PDF

ever been hit by a lady.
    “This isn’t funny anymore,” she continued. “I really am tired and just wanna go home.”
    The last part, at least, he understood. He would not hazard inquiring into the meaning of the rest. “I am sure Mrs. Somerville would be happy to escort you home in her coach. What is your direction?”
    “Coach?” She frowned. “Forget it. I live in Guildford, and I’m not going to ride in a carriage, no matter how period and charming.”
    “Guildford? You mean to travel all the way to Guildford tonight?”
    He had thought Miss Rochon a puzzle? She was exasperating.
    No, he amended. Daft.
    “It’s not far by tube to the train, and it’s not late.” She glanced around again, and back at him, “You know, forget it, I’ll text my friend Katy and see if they’re still at The Mad Martini.” After this incomprehensible speech, she pulled out a round, thin, brass object from her reticule. Her thumbs glided along the surface, a tiny glow emanating from it.
    Phineas could only stare. What device was this?
    Miss Rochon emitted an unladylike snarl and shoved it back into her reticule. “Figures, no signal. And my photo didn’t post.” She pursed her lips and peered around. “Doesn’t matter, it’s only a block or two away, I’ll hop over and see if they’re still there.” She turned to Miss Byron. “Really, you guys have been nice, thanks again. One of them can give me a ride.”
    She stepped away, waved, and walked alone down the dark street. Again.
    Yes, a candidate for Bedlam, this Miss Rochon. He contemplated leaving her and her idiotic expressions to her certain fate. He looked at his cousin.
    Miss Byron returned his gaze with concern in her eyes. “Cousin, we cannot let her walk alone. She certainly is a strange creature, but we cannot in good conscience leave her be. There could be footpads about, even in this neighborhood.”
    At times, Phineas hated being a gentleman. Of course, Miss Byron was right. Despite her youth, his cousin possessed an innate sense of other people’s character and situation. He felt it only prudent to agree, since her assessment matched his own sensibilities. Besides, Miss Rochon was obviously distressed by her surroundings and endeavoring to put a brave face upon it. Something was amiss. With a grunt, he tucked Miss Byron’s arm under his own, and they hastened to catch up with Miss Rochon.
    “We will accompany you to your destination.” He gave her his best glare, to stifle any objection she might effect. He also hoped it would discourage her from continuing with her Colonial babble.
    “Whatever. Suit yourself.” She shrugged. “Well, Katy did say to bring a hottie, and she’s sure to like you, too, Ada.”
    He whipped his body around to regard her more fully, surprised at her for being so free with Miss Byron’s Christian name.
    The less discourse the better, in his opinion. They proceeded in silence. As earlier, Miss Rochon’s steps slowed by degrees, until she stiffened and marched around the corner onto Marylebone Lane. She stopped, her brow furrowed, her lips trembling.
    He followed her troubled gaze down the lane. The dark windows of the butcher’s and peddler’s shops gave no hints as to the reason for her distress. No dark shapes loomed. The new gas lights provided ample illumination.
    “What happened to The Mad Martini? I was here just last Friday.” She gazed up and down the length of Marylebone. She looked back at him, and he was certain of her fear: her voice quavered and her eyes seemed wild as they pierced into his, almost pleading. “Okay, I’ve been trying to stay calm this whole time, but now I think—I think I might scream or faint. Yes, faint. And then I can wake up in Kansas.”
    She pinched herself.
    Kansas? He was unfamiliar with that particular place. Perhaps it was the town from whence she came. But—why would she expect to wake up there? Homesick?
    Insane?
    A street urchin streaked by, bumped into Miss Rochon, and