The Providence Rider Read Online Free PDF Page A

symbol the octopus.
    We have a mutual acquaintance , Rebecca Mallory had said.
    Matthew had no doubt the Mallorys knew Professor Fell much better than he. All he knew of the man was that he had a slew of nefarious plans—some of which Matthew had already upset—and that at one time Professor Fell had laid a ‘blood card’ down upon the young problem-solver’s life: a bloody fingerprint on a white card that meant Matthew was marked for certain death. Whether that threat still held true or not, he didn’t know. Perhaps he should stroll across the room and ask the Mallorys?
    “You’re wandering off from what I’m saying.” Greathouse shifted his position so that he stood between Matthew and the handsome couple who hid their secrets. Matthew had said nothing of any of this to his friend; there was no need, as yet, to pull him into this intrigue. Particularly now that the great one was somewhat less great and much more human in his vulnerable flesh. “And if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, stop thinking it.”
    Matthew looked Greathouse in the eyes. “What might that be?”
    “You know. That you still carry a burden, and you blame yourself and all that. It happened, it’s done and it’s over. I told you before, I might have done the same thing in your shoes. Hell,” he growled, “I’m sure I would’ve. I’m all right, believe me. Now let that go and come back to life. I don’t mean just halfway. I mean all the way. Hear me?”
    Matthew did. Greathouse was right; it was time to let those things of the past go, because they were corrupting both his present and future. Maybe it would still be awhile before he could come back all the way, but he forced himself to say, “Yes.”
    “Good boy. Good man , I mean.” Greathouse leaned in a little closer. His eyes caught candlelight and glinted with devilish humor. “Listen,” he said quietly, “that girl favors you. You know she does. She’s a mighty comely girl, and she could make a man excitable if you know what I mean. And I’ll tell you, she hides more than she shows in that area.”
    “What area?” In spite of himself, Matthew felt a smile pushing at the corners of his mouth.
    “Love.” It had been nearly a whisper. “You know what they say: Gap between the teeth, hot between the sheets.”
    “Oh, they say that, do they?”
    “Yes. Definitely yes.”
    “Hudson? There you are!” The person who’d just spoken was a woman, and she came forward with a rustle of lemon-colored skirts and an expression of bemusement. She was tall and willowy and had a lush garden of blonde hair that in defiance of the proper ladylike fashion fell unconfined about her bare shoulders, which of itself spoke volumes of both her nature and the future of modern women. Upon seeing a small heart-shaped birthmark in the hollow of her throat Matthew thought they would have seized on this rather brazen female as a witch in the since-departed town of Fount Royal. He doubted she would’ve gone nicely to the gaol. She got up alongside Greathouse and actually put her arm around his shoulders. Then she stared at Matthew with her warm and inviting brown eyes and said, “This is the young man.” No question, just statement.
    “Matthew Corbett, meet the widow Donovan,” said Greathouse.
    She offered an ungloved hand. “Abby Donovan,” she told him. “I arrived last week from London. Hudson has been so helpful.”
    “He’s a helpful sort,” Matthew said. His hand would remember the woman’s remarkably firm squeeze.
    “Yes, but he does get away from you. Particularly when he says for you to get cider and that he’ll return in a moment. I don’t think ‘a moment’ is the same for Hudson as it is for other men.” All this was said with the slyest hint of a smile and the brown eyes fixed on the man of the moment.
    “Never was,” he admitted. “Never will be.”
    “I admit, he’s one of a kind,” said Matthew.
    “Don’t I know it!” answered the lady,