The Temptation of Torilla Read Online Free PDF Page A

small round-topped trunk and placed it on the roof, before opening the coach door.
    Torilla saw that there was one place left between two large, fat people taking up more than their fair share of the back seat.
    “Goodbye, Abby,” she called and climbed in, apologising for knocking against the passengers’ feet as she did so.
    She sat down, the guard climbed up on the box and Torilla bent forward to wave her hand.
    Abby waved back.
    She was smiling, although there were tears in her eyes as the coachman whipped up the horses – and the stagecoach started off again.

CHAPTER TWO
    The Marquis of Havingham drove his team of four perfectly matched chestnuts with a flourish into the courtyard of The Pelican Inn.
    He was driving in his specially built travelling Phaeton, which was a sporty, open carriage lighter and therefore faster than any other vehicle on the road.
    “I think we have made a record today, Jim,” the Marquis remarked.
    “A fine performance, my Lord,” Jim replied knowing he would be able to relate it with relish to the other grooms he would meet in the taproom.
    The Marquis looked round the crowded yard with dismay.
    There were far more fashionable vehicles resting on their shafts than he had expected and after a moment he exclaimed,
    “Of course! Doncaster Races. I had forgotten them!”
    “I expect your Lordship’ll be comfortable enough,” Jim said soothingly. “Mr. Harris’ll have seen to that.”
    The Marquis had no doubts on that score, for by sending his valet ahead with his luggage he was always assured that the most comfortable rooms would be provided for him and that on his arrival everything he required would be waiting and ready.
    He was, however, well aware that a race meeting in any town brought in the quality from far and near.
    It meant that the inn staff would be run off their feet and it would inevitably be noisy, which after a long day on the road was something he seriously disliked.
    But nothing could be done about it now and, as he stepped down from his phaeton, he almost regretted that he had not arranged to stay with friends as he had done on his way North.
    “Who will you visit when you leave here?” his mother had asked before he left.
    “I have decided to go South as quickly as possible,” the Marquis replied, “and quite frankly, Mama, I found the majority of people I stayed with on my way here excessively boring.”
    He did not add that one of the reasons for this was that he found the owners of the large and comfortable mansions who had welcomed him effusively had a habit of trying to thrust one of their daughters upon him.
    He had enjoyed the few days he had spent at Woburn Abbey, Burleigh, and with the Duke of Darlington at his extremely impressive country house.
    But the manoeuvres of his hostesses to engage his interest in their usually plain and tongue-tied daughters had made the Marquis long for the sophisticated, witty and beguiling women with whom he spent his time in London.
    They were fortunately all married and, what was more, knew the rules of the game so there was no chance of his being threatened with a wedding ring, which in his private view was as inhibiting as a pair of handcuffs.
    As he was already betrothed to Beryl Fern, the machinations with regard to matrimony, which he had encountered only too often over the years, had on this occasion irritated him all the more.
    He had decided when he reached Harrogate that he had no intention of subjecting himself once again to the boredom of it.
    “But you hate inns and hotels, dearest,” his mother had remarked in surprise.
    “I know, Mama, but I only have to endure them for one night at a time and Harris makes me as comfortable as it is humanly possible to be in such circumstances.”
    “I would be happier if you stayed with friends,” the Dowager Marchioness insisted.
    “But I would not!” the Marquis replied. “So cease worrying, Mama, and as usual I shall travel incognito.”
    The Marquis was not