His Runaway Maiden. June Francis

when he would get his comeuppance. Then the reality of her situation struck her and the corners of her mouth drooped. A mournful sigh escaped her.

      Alex gave her a sidelong glance and felt a stir of pity at the sight of such abject misery. Then he hardened his heart. Pity could have no place in his armoury. The youth had lied to him. He could be all that he had accused him of being, but Alex was prepared to risk that to discover if Harry and Ingrid were at Appleby Manor.

      They rode on in silence between high, bare hedgerows until they reached an open aspect. Suddenly Alex had a growing conviction that he had passed this way before. When he recognised the walls of Lathom ahead, he turned on his companion and pulled on the cord, causing Rosamund to almost tumble from the horse.

      ‘Do you take me for a fool, Master Wood?’ roared Alex. ‘This is not Appleby Manor, but Lathom House!’

      Rosamund managed to grab the pommel and heave herself back into the saddle. ‘You could have killed me!’ she cried.

      ‘But I didn’t,’ snapped Alex. ‘What jape is this you play? I left this place only a couple of hours ago.’

      His words took Rosamund utterly by surprise. ‘What were you doing at the Earl of Derby’s mansion?’

      ‘That is none of your business.’ His eyes flashed golden fire ‘Answer my question or I’ll cut your throat. ????? Why have you brought me here?’

      ‘I—I have no w-wish to return to A-Appleby Manor,’ she stuttered. ‘They would kill me.’

      Alex gazed into the delicate features and his anger abated. ‘Why? What wrong have you done?’

      Rosamund felt her ire rising again. ‘Why do you believe it is I who am in the wrong when I am fleeing for my life?’

      Alex frowned. ‘Because, Master Wood, I deem you are no woodcutter, which means you lied to me.’

      She felt sick with fear. ‘Wh-what evidence do you have to make such an accusation?’

      Alex smiled humourlessly. ‘Your stature is enough. It takes strength to chop down trees, Master Wood—you look more suited to needlepoint. Tell me, who is it you fear at Appleby Manor?’

      Rosamund had no intention of telling him. After all, he could be in the pay of her stepbrother, Edward Fustian, who had dealings in London with foreigners.

      ‘Why should I answer your question when you will not answer mine?’ she muttered.

      ‘Because I am the stronger, little bantam.’

      ‘You mean you would bully me like you have already done in order to have your own way,’ she said sullenly.

      He raised his tawny eyebrows. ‘I beg pardon if I have hurt you,’ he said in a mocking voice. ‘But if you do not wish to take me to Appleby Manor, then answer my questions.’

      ‘Will you let me go if I do?’

      ‘If I judge you are telling me the truth. Who dwells there?’

      Rosamund could see no harm in answering him. ‘The family is small and consists of Lady Monica Appleby and her son William. She has another son who lives in London.’

      This news was not what Alex had hoped to hear. ‘What of Sir James?’

      ‘Dead!’

      The news came as something of a shock.

      Rosamund saw that he paled beneath his tanned skin. ‘You knew Sir James?’ she asked.

      Alex pulled himself together. ‘I met him only the once.’

      ‘You seem very shocked by the news, sir.’

      ‘Indeed, I am. I had hoped to gain information from him. When did he die?’

      ‘Six months ago.’ Her expression was bleak.

      That news was a further shock. ‘I met him shortly before he died,’ said Alex. ‘He made no mention that he had two sons.’

      ‘That is because they are not his sons, but belong to his second wife, Lady Monica.’ Rosamund watched his expression alter and wondered what this information was that he had wanted from her father, but she did not see how she could be of help to him on that score. ‘Did you meet him in London?’

      ‘Aye, and that is where I must go now. I will risk showing you some trust. Are you able to guide me out of this palatine and set me on the road to that city? I will pay you to act as my guide.’

      She shook her head. ‘No! I can’t come with you. I have business at Lathom House.’

      Alex scowled. ‘So that is why you brought me here. I don’t care what your business is, you will guide me out of this backwater or you will be sorry.’

      Alarmed, she said, ‘I will do what you say if you answer me one question. Did you speak to Lady Elizabeth Stanley whilst you were at Lathom?’

      Alex’s suspicions were immediately roused. ‘Why do you ask, lad? What business do you have with the lady?’

      Rosamund knew if she told him the truth, then he would know for certain that she had deceived him. ‘It is a private matter.’

      ‘I wager it is,’ said Alex silkily. ‘Well, I will not keep secret from you that the lady and her entourage left yesterday afternoon for London.’

      Rosamund’s spirits plummeted. Her hope in coming here was all in vain. What was she to do now?

      Watching the dismay cloud Master Wood’s face, Alex had the strangest feeling that he was right to be suspicious of this slender youth and determined to discover more about him. ‘If you still wish to speak to the lady, then I suggest you accompany me to London.’

      Rosamund knew that she should not agree to his suggestion. Yet, he was giving her a second chance to gain the help of her godmother. Would it be a bigger mistake not to agree? On the other hand, was it crazy to even consider going with him? He was a foreigner who had almost choked the life out of her. This should have told her, if aught else didn’t, that he was a dangerous man. No, it would be sheer folly to fall in with his plan.

      She tilted her chin. ‘I do not wish to go with you! In fact, I refuse to do so!’ She dug her heels into Betsy’s flanks. The horse jerked forward and then collapsed.

       Chapter Two

      Rosamund’s shock was intense. She barely had time to kick her feet free of the stirrups before she felt a tug on her wrist as Alex bent over and lifted her from the saddle. He lowered her to the ground before dismounting and hunkering down beside the horse. He placed his hand on the beast’s neck and held it there for several moments before looking up at her.

      ‘I’m sorry, Master Wood, but your horse is dead.’

      Rosamund fell on her knees besides the horse and a sob burst from her. She stroked the horse’s head before burying her face against its shaggy coat to hide her tears. ‘Poor Betsy,’ she whispered.

      Alex gazed down at the bent head and the exposed slender neck. Had he imagined that sob? What conclusions could he draw from it? He could recall having difficulty holding back tears when his first pony had died. Grieving for a beloved horse was natural. Perhaps he was mistaken to have considered even for a moment that this uncommon youth was a thief.

      ‘We are presented with a problem, Master Wood,’ he said. ‘I am short of time, but you are without a mount. What do you want to do?’

      Rosamund turned a tearstained face towards him. ‘You are giving me a choice?’

      Alex wondered if he was being overly sympathetic, but told himself that it was important that he discovered what Master Wood’s business was with her ladyship. ‘I need to go to London. You wish to speak with Lady Elizabeth, who is on her way there. Someone is bound to pass this way and they will find your horse and do what is necessary.’

      Rosamund