The Perfect Mistress Read Online Free PDF Page B

most modest of tradesmen would want her to wife. Panic shuddered through her.
    This was no rescue. His self-righteous zeal for retribution would bring her entire future down around her ears!
    "Come, come—don't be afraid, my girl," he demanded, seizing her shoulders in a viselike grip. "I shall see you are protected from her and her unsavory associates. And I shall help you to make a new start as… a maid in a respectable house or a matron in a charity house or perhaps a clerk in a millinery shop. I shall find you good, honest work that will redeem your wayward pride and in the end, save your soul." His eyes gleamed with what could only be called excitement. "Give me the name of that heartless Jezebel and I shall see her roundly punished. I have a few 'connections' in the government myself—"
    "William?" A female voice, artificially high and quivering with compressed tension, rang out across the kitchen. Gabrielle's captor released her abruptly and whirled to face the doorway that led to the rest of the house. There stood a delicate, gently aged woman wearing fine black silk, a fragile lace cap, and an expression that contained both surprise and distress.
    Her mouth dropped open as her gaze settled on Gabrielle. "What are you doing, William? Who is that creature?"
    "Catherine!" William rushed to the woman's side and quickly ushered her back into the corridor. "Dear wife… nothing for you to be concerned about…"
    But "Catherine" apparently had other ideas, for she refused to be moved until she had an explanation. Tension pushed her voice higher as William tried to explain and pacify her in calm, reassuring tones. He quickly led her back along the corridor, out of sight. From the fading of their voices, Gabrielle concluded that William was succeeding in removing Catherine to another part of the house… leaving her alone in the kitchen.
    Alone . Seizing the moment, she emptied her hands of half-crumbled biscuits and frantically wrestled her feet into slippers that had shrunk as they began to dry. With her heart beating furiously, she raced toward the street, half expecting a shout of discovery or a heavy hand to descend on her shoulder and halt her. But the only sound was hinges creaking as the door swung open. With a furtive look back, she dashed out into the alley.
    "Rain again." She groaned as the rivulets of water trickling down her face made it difficult to see. But at least she was free. When she had put some distance between her and the house, she stopped and shielded her eyes to look around. She was in an alley between what appeared to be substantial buildings. Glimpsing the dim glow of streetlamps at one end of the lane, she gathered up her skirts and ran toward them.
    Her earlier dilemma now returned in the rain and gloom of the night.
    And who knew what her erstwhile rescuer would do when he discovered her missing? She had to get out of this plaguing downpour and find a way back to her mother's house. There was only one solution to both her needs: a horsecab. And where would she find one at this hour?
    Cupping her hand over her eyes, she searched the blurry lights in the distance. The street was deserted except for a carriage parked under a sputtering streetlamp a little more than a block away. The creak of iron hinges and the sharp clap of wood behind her spurred her into motion.
    Desperately, she snatched up her drooping skirts and dashed off the curb into the puddled street.
    The driver of that carriage suddenly came to life, slapping reins, and the carriage was in motion. She gasped as it hurtled toward her. The door flew open and a large, shadowy figure leaned out of the opening. In the blink of an eye, she was being scooped up off the street and hauled inside the moving carriage.
    The force that had plucked her from the street abandoned her momentarily, to pull the door shut, but an instant later loomed over her again. Dressed in flowing black and outlined in the yellow glow of the interior lantern, her