Amanda Scott (37 page)

She looked directly at him then and discovered that his eyes were an unusual shade of greenish hazel, set deep beneath his brows. Suddenly more disconcerted than she wished him to know, she turned away again, lifted her chin, and said with forced calm, “I believe that abducting heiresses is an indiscretion upon which persons of refinement do not look lightly, sir. Perhaps it is still done in some circles, but surely here in Bath—”

“An indiscretion, Miss Bradbourne?” Again there was that note of near laughter in his voice. “You would label such an act as this a mere indiscretion?”

“I think you cannot have thought the matter out clearly,” she said. She was thinking rapidly, having dismissed her first inclination, which had been to inform him as quickly as possible that he had much mistaken the matter, that she was no heiress, and then to insist that he restore her to her great-aunt at once. She had barely opened her mouth, however, when she realized she could not so easily betray Lady Flavia. After all, she knew nothing about Mr. Manningford and certainly had no cause to trust him. She would have to deal with him in a less diplomatic way.

They had turned onto the London Road, and his attention was fully claimed at that moment by his team. She waited until he had passed a coach laden with passengers before saying calmly, “I regret that I cannot go any farther, Mr. Manningford. My aunt will begin to fret if I do not return to Laura Place soon, so I must request that you take me back there at once.”

“Request all you like,” he said cheerfully without taking his eyes from the road. The speed at which they were traveling made her grateful that he was not one of those young bucks who drove in a careless, neck-or-nothing fashion; nevertheless, she had no intention of allowing him to carry her another mile.

“Mr. Manningford, you are making a mistake.”

“It will not be the first time.”

“No doubt, but abduction is a serious offense, and I am not without protection, you know. You surely cannot believe you will succeed in forcing me to marry you.”

“Do you think I could not? I doubt your family would welcome the sort of scandal that would arise from trying to set such a marriage aside, and they certainly won’t prosecute once the knot is tied. No one would wish to raise that much dust.”

“Rein in your horses, Mr. Manningford.” Nell’s voice was ice cold, her words crystal clear.

Manningford glanced at her and froze. “Where the devil did that come from?” he demanded, staring at the serviceable little pistol she held pointed at him in a perfectly steady hand.

“All that need concern you,” Nell said, still in that calm, frost-bitten tone, “is that I know how to use it and have no qualms about doing so. Rein in your team.”

A low growl from the hound at her feet drew Manningford’s attention. “Good lad,” he said. “I will keep him from harming you, Miss Bradbourne, if you will hand that gun to me at once.”

The pistol moved in Nell’s hand, stopping his hand the instant he began shift his reins to reach for it. “The dog will not harm me, sir. Not, at all events, before I have put a hole in your shoulder or in your thigh. I have not decided which it is to be yet, though I am told that either can be very painful.”

“Yes, by God, it can,” he retorted. “I have had experience with gunshot wounds, and I have no desire to test your mettle, but how do you know the dog won’t harm you? I don’t even know that he won’t.”

“Dogs like me,” Nell said simply.

“He growled.”

“No doubt because you disturbed him when I startled you with my pistol. He has put his head down again, as you can see.”

Manningford sighed and began to rein his team to the side of the road. “Very well, but don’t wave that damned thing about. That stage we passed will most likely be along in a few moments, and I’d as lief not have to explain any of this to the driver or to his guard, if he’s got one.”

“You will take me back to Laura Place.”

The phaeton drew to a halt. “As to that,” he said, eyeing her pistol, “I should perhaps explain a thing or two to you.”

“Do not try to make me believe that I ought to go anywhere else with you, sir. I am not such a ninnyhammer.”

“I never said you were one,” he said, “but the fact is that I have not been precisely factual in my explanation. I am not a marrying man, I fear, nor did I intend to become one.”

“Goodness,” Nell said, watching him even more narrowly than he watched her, “then you did mean to ravish me.”

“No, I swear I did not.”

“Mr. Manningford, it is perfectly plain to me—no, sir, do not move—that my first estimation of your character was the correct one. Your senses are clearly disordered. No doubt your family has persons out scouring the countryside to find you, to place you under restraint. I will thus be doing them a favor by restoring you to their loving bosom, to be well cared for.”

“Well, there you’re out, my girl, there is no loving bosom. My siblings all have families of their own, and my father is a damned odd fellow whom I’ve only just met and don’t care if I never see again.”

“Only just met?” A memory stirred in her mind.

“Yes, but don’t let that distress you. And hide that popgun of yours. Here comes the stage.”

Obediently, Nell slipped the pistol under her skirt until the stage had passed, feeling no urge to draw the attention of passengers or driver. Manningford waved, then heaved a sigh of relief when no one showed any particular interest in them.

“Look,” he said when the dust had settled, “I ought never to have mentioned marriage. I never meant any such thing.”

“So now you would cry off, would you,” Nell said with a chuckle. But then, when he looked truly horrified, she added hastily, “What had my being an heiress to do with it then?”

He still watched her narrowly. “Only that a friend of mine laid me a wager, saying I couldn’t abduct you.”

“I see. I must tell you, sir, that I do not approve of idiotish wagers. You ought to have told him you would not.”

“I did. In point of fact, I said I’d be damned if I would do any such thing.”

“Very proper. So then, why?”

“Circumstances changed. I require a certain amount of money to see me through to quarter-day. I asked my esteemed father for it, but instead of complying with my request, he chose to treat me as though I were a marionette to which he held the strings, so here I am.”

“But you might ask someone else to lend you the money instead, might you not?”

“Is that an offer?” He grinned at her. “I thank you, but I have never in my life borrowed money from a woman, except of course from my sister, who does not count. I couldn’t.”

“I couldn’t, either,” Nell said, stifling a laugh, “but pray do not take offense, sir. I mean that precisely the way I said it. I cannot possibly. I have no money.”

“None? None at all?”

“Not a farthing. In fact, I came to Bath hoping to find some sort of respectable employment for myself.”

Manningford stared at her for a long moment, then his lips began to twitch and his eyes to twinkle. When he burst into laughter, Nell watched him doubtfully, not certain even yet that she had not fallen into the clutches of a Bedlamite.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 1991 by Lynne Scott-Drennan

Cover design by Mimi Bark

978-1-4804-1518-8

This edition published in 2013 by Open Road Integrated Media

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