Patrica Rice Read Online Free PDF

anyone would believe me if I told them. You overestimate the general populace.”
    She continued with the tale she’d heard from her maid. “Now tell me how it is that the Hanks girl received only sufficient fare for a coach ride to visit her ailing mother when that ring you stole was worth enough to pay her fare by post chaise all the way?”
    The highwayman leaned one arm across the saddle and stared down into her intrepid expression with amusement. Her face was all frail bones and delicate angles, dominated by the largest, most vibrant green eyes he had ever had the misfortune to encounter. Long, dark lashes swept upward as she glared back at him, and he had the urge to kiss that rosy flush on her cheek to see if those lashes would close in pleasure. It was an insane urge and he resisted it.
    “Thieves have to live, too, Miss Templeton. Did you think those men I had with me that night robbed carriages for fun? What I do with my share is my business, not theirs. They have naught else to live on but what we steal. It is a sad state of affairs that the men who fought so bravely to save our country from Napoleon’s maw must be reduced to thievery to eat, but you need not understand that.”
    “No, I need not.” Furious, but more because of the unsettling effect his proximity had on her than by his words, Daphne took the offensive. “They could work like honest men. You do them no favors by encouraging them to an occupation that only can lead to the most violent of deaths.”
    She did not know why she assumed that he was their leader, but he had a commanding air about him that could not cause her to think otherwise.
    His laugh was short and bitter. “What kind of occupation do you think they had in the army? They are hardened to the inevitability of death, and a violent one is preferable to slow starvation. Look around you. Miss Templeton, and try to imagine who would employ crippled men whose only skills are to shoot other people? It is a wonder England is not overrun with cutthroats and thieves now that this war is over. I, at least, keep them from violence.”
    Daphne knew first hand the prejudice society held against the unfit. It didn’t justify wrong, but she certainly was not one to hand out advice on how to combat it. She wrapped the reins more tightly around her gloved hand and began to search for a fallen tree that might serve as mounting block.
    “I am sure you are to be commended, sir,” she replied haughtily. “Just know it is on your head if anyone comes to harm. Lord Griffin seems most upset by your escapades, and he has vowed to see them halted.”
    “Has he now?” Amusement laced his voice as he lifted her forgotten jacket from the saddle and handed it to her, then calmly caught her by the waist and threw her up on the horse before her faltering attempts at mounting could become an embarrassment. “Well, I shall certainly take that into serious consideration. Does he come calling often. Miss Templeton? A viscount makes quite a handsome catch.”
    “You are insulting, sir.” Whipping the reins from his protective grip, Daphne spurred her horse into motion. She did not have to endure the insinuations of a thief, gentleman or no.
    “Don’t come back here, Miss Templeton!” he called after her as she rode off toward the beckoning sunlight. For his own peace of mind, don’t come back here, he thought as he watched her proudly ride away.
    It had been a long time since he had held and talked to a lady. Too long, if he was beginning to look fondly on a brittle termagant like that. He must have jelly for brains to even consider it.
     

Chapter Three
     
    That Friday evening, garbed in what she considered a modest costume of green sprigged batiste with the new flounced hem, a wide green satin sash, and long sleeves ending in a slight ruffle, Daphne entered Lord Griffin’s home accompanied by her aunt.
    The mounting whispers as she entered the salon caused her to stiffen. Assuming they were the usual