Free Clandestine by Nichole van Page B

the gig, the hunting dogs continuing to run round and round. One of the servants called the dogs to heel, and then everyone finally spotted Marc standing by the horse’s withers on the opposite side.
    Noticing their stares, Kit gestured toward Marc.
    “This kind gentleman appeared at just the right moment to stop the horse. I am quite sure he saved my poor neck.” Her laugh seemed a little forced.
    “Well, a proper thank you is in order then.” Arthur nodded his head in Marc’s direction.
    “It was remarkable. He leapt onto the back of the galloping horse.” Kit gestured. “And right after being accosted by highwaymen too.”
    Arthur’s head jerked to attention.
    “Highwaymen?”
    “Yes, this gentleman had his horse and possessions stolen out from underneath him at gunpoint.”
    The servants let out gasps of alarm while the dogs, sensing the instant tension, started running in circles again. Arthur called them to heel.
    “Gracious!” Jedediah exclaimed. “I say, Arthur, what kind of place is Herefordshire turning into? First all those robberies and now this?”
    Arthur shook his head. “‘Tis most disconcerting, to be sure.” He gave Marc a shrewd, assessing look.
    For all his stuffiness, Arthur Knight was not a fool.
    “You have brought quite a bit of excitement to our corner of the world, sir.”
    Arthur gave Marc a polite bow and then waited expectantly.
    Marc gathered this was the point at which he was supposed to introduce himself. But given what a mess he had made of introductions so far, he would be better off holding his tongue.
    With a tight smile, Marc walked around the horse and gave both men a polite bow. At least, he hoped it was polite.
    “Mr. Arthur Knight, I presume.”
    “Indeed, I am he. It seems we are in your debt, Mr. . . .” Arthur let his voice drift off, obviously expecting Marc to finish the introduction.
    Unsure, Marc shot a glance at the crowd of people and dogs, all watching with interest.
    “Might I have a word with you in private, Arth—uh, Mr. Knight?” Marc gestured for them to walk up the road a ways.
    Arthur dragged his eyes up and down Marc’s clothing. No doubt noting his odd footwear and lacking hat and gloves.
    “If you wish.” Arthur nodded after a moment. “I would appreciate a recounting of the robbery which landed you here.”
    “Naturally, of course. There is much to discuss.”
    Arthur raised his eyebrows at this, but said nothing more. Instead, he handed his rifle to one of the servants and instructed them to see Miss Ashton back to Haldon Manor. He then gestured for Marc to walk beside him up the lane toward the house.
    Out of the corner of his eye, Marc studied his brother-in-law—for lack of a better way to describe the brother of his sister’s husband.
    Though Arthur’s hair was more sandy than Georgiana’s blond and his eyes more gray than James’ blue, Marc could easily see the family resemblance between the three siblings. The same shape of the eyes, the same long nose. Arthur was somewhat taller and leaner than James and, as expected, his eyes lacked the mischievous sparkle of his brother and sister.
    But, all in all, he seemed a good enough sort. Stiff and serious but also conscientious and kind.
    Arthur said nothing and Marc waited for the gig to pass them with Jedediah now driving. Once everyone was safely out of earshot, Marc stopped.
    “Marc Wilde.” He offered his hand with a smile.
    Arthur’s eyes widened considerably under the brim of his hat. “Well, well, this is unexpected,” he said, giving Marc’s hand a firm shake. “Very unexpected.”
    Marc’s laugh came out strained. “That makes two of us.”
    They assessed one another for a moment.
    “Well, well, well,” Arthur repeated, as if the reality of Marc’s presence was settling in. “I take it you are Emme’s brother from the twenty-first century? The one who fights in that Oriental style?”
    Marc nodded, resisting a smile. He was quite sure every martial artist