The Baron’s Betrothal: An On-Again, Off-Again, On-Again Regency Romance (The Horsemen of the Apocalypse Series) Read Online Free PDF Page B

quite married yet.”  
    “Of course. Will you wed in London or at the castle?”  
    “Here, quickly and quietly, under the circumstances. No need to disturb the baroness, is there?” The half-brothers referred to Clun’s mother as ‘the baroness.’ Among his friends in the cavalry, Clun habitually called her the Fury. 7  
    “Has she met your lady yet?” Roddy asked.
    “She has not, nor will she, until after the lady is my baroness and she’s the dowager.”
    “Think that wise?”
    “I think it imperative. Can’t have the chit cry off because of her, can I?”
    “Who’s to say she would? Perhaps they’ll rub along.”
    “No, there’s not a chance on God’s green earth of that, Roddy. And if it ever comes to blows, I’d lay odds on my lady. She’s the ferocious type, no doubt of it.” Clun chuckled, remembering how four men jumped when his green-eyed Amazon had slammed her hand down on their table and demanded back her baubles and coin.  

    * * *

    At that very moment, the Amazon in question was confronting the sobering reality of her circumstances.  
    Elizabeth had arrived more than a fortnight ago after a dreadful journey by mail coach. Despite her brave words to Mr. Tyler, she used money not mother wit to supply most of her needs so far. She traipsed back and forth to the village of Clun southwest of the estate for supplies almost daily.  
    She had, in truth, shot a deer; however, she hadn’t meant to. She ‘borrowed’ one pistol from a boxed set of two Manton’s in her father’s study before she fled, intending it only for self-defense. The day after she arrived, she went outside to practice with it. (A sensible plan.) It was surprisingly heavy in the muzzle and cumbersome to hold. (She dropped it.) It discharged and she survived unscathed. (Thank Heaven.) The doe hiding in the woods nearby did not. Elizabeth didn’t realize this until the mortally-wounded animal broke from the bramble in a final panic and ran a few yards toward her before collapsing.  
    That irksome Mr. Tyler was right, she couldn’t kill her own meat intentionally. The accident had shaken her resolve to stay, but she plucked up her courage and made a practical decision to see that the doe’s death wasn’t all for naught. She hastened to the village butcher and sold him the carcass for half a haunch and credit for game birds and beef, redeemable at a later date. The butcher agreed. All conceit aside, it was clever of her.  
    Free meat and fowl notwithstanding, if she hadn’t wrested back what remained of her money from the villains, she’d have been hard pressed to go on. She already spent nearly all her money, save coach fare back to London, when Mr. Tyler came along. It was no exaggeration to say he was her hero. That is, until he revealed himself to be arrogant and dismissive of her abilities. After that, he put her teeth on edge.
    Even with her funds restored, she couldn’t remain in hiding for a month, much less most of a year. She would never sell the baroque pearl earrings her father gave her on her twentieth birthday, nor could she part with her mother’s locket. Ever.
    No doubt, her father had already hired Bow Street runners to find her. They’d have little trouble determining her route from London. She was an unusually tall, young lady traveling alone, which simply was not done, so her movements would have been particularly noteworthy. (Hence the wisdom of a sidearm.)  
    Then again, she dressed like a charwoman to be ignored, so it was conceivable no one noticed a gawky, overgrown servant seeking to squeeze into the hot, close confines of a mail coach headed to Shropshire.  
    No, she concluded, her father could afford the best runners. They would see through her ruse. Even now, they had to be on her trail, questioning innkeepers en route to determine her ultimate destination. Though out of the way, Clun village was on the map. Clun Forest was well enough known. Sightings in the village would be the