Free Quick, Amanda by Lie By Moonlight

to look at me like that, Oates.” Ambrose clapped him on the back. “I made it worth his while.
    He’ll be wanting his fine equipage back, however. Will you take care of the matter for me? I told the man
    I’d leave his horse and cart in Brinks Lane near the theater.”
    “Aye, sir.” Oates climbed up onto the box and flapped the reins.
    He did not appear even mildly astonished by the unusual nature of Ambrose’s arrival, Concordia
    thought. She got the feeling that Oates was accustomed to such eccentricities.
    “Come, we will go inside and I will introduce you to Mrs. Oates,” Ambrose said. “She manages the
    household and will show you to your rooms.”
    Before Concordia realized his intent, he took her arm and drew her toward the kitchen door. She was
    very conscious of the feel of his strong fingers. For some ridiculous reason she wished very badly that she
    was not dressed in such ragged, unfashionable clothes.
    To distract herself from that depressing line of thought, she examined the exterior of the big house as
    they moved toward the door.
    The mansion was a handsome building in the Palladian style with tall, well-proportioned windows and
    fine columns. It was surrounded by high stone walls and well-tended gardens. The effect was quite
    elegant, but she could not help but notice that the big house possessed, in a subtle, understated manner,
    the air of a secure fortress. Dante and Beatrice added the final touch.
    The excited, chattering girls rushed enthusiastically into the back hall accompanied by the dogs.
    Concordia watched them, her insides tightening. Had she done the right thing by bringing them here? Had
    there been any better choice?
    Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    She hesitated briefly before stepping over the threshold of the mansion.
    “This is a very grand home, Mr. Wells,” she said, keeping her voice low so the girls would not overhear.
    “I assume it belongs to you?”
    “As a matter of fact, it does not.”
    She stopped quite suddenly. “What on earth do you mean?”
    “It is the property of a man named John Stoner.”
    She frowned. “Is he here?”
    “No,” Ambrose said. “As it happens, he is not in residence at the moment.”
    It seemed to her that he spoke a little too casually about the absence of the mysterious Mr. Stoner.
    “Are you quite certain that he will not mind having us as houseguests?” she asked.
    “Unless he returns unexpectedly, he will not even be aware that he is playing host to you,” Ambrose
    assured her.
    She did not like the sound of that. “I don’t understand. Where is Mr. Stoner?”
    “I believe that he is on the Continent at the moment. Difficult to say, really. Stoner is unpredictable in his
    habits.”
    “I see. May I ask what your connection is to this Mr. Stoner?”
    He thought that over for a few seconds. “You could say that we are old acquaintances.”
    “No offense, sir, but that sounds rather vague.”
    “Do not be alarmed, Miss Glade,” Ambrose said very softly. “You have my word that you and your
    charges will be safe here.”
    A frisson of acute awareness fluttered across her nerves. Her intuition told her that the girls would come
    to no harm from Ambrose Wells. She was not nearly so certain about the safety of her own heart.
    8
    Concordia awoke to the soft plink, plink, plink of rain dripping steadily outside the window. It was a
    peaceful, comforting sound. She lay quietly for a moment, savoring the sensation. This was the first time
    in several weeks that she had not experienced a rush of anxiety and tension immediately after
    awakening—the first morning when she had not had to think about the escape plan.
    True, things had not gone according to her original scheme, but the girls were safely away from Aldwick
    Castle. That was all that mattered this morning. Soon she would have to fashion a new plan for the future,
    but that could wait until after breakfast.
    Generated by ABC