Free An Unlikely Duchess by Mary Balogh

the hiring of a carriage and horses.”
    The duke rocked on his heels and scratched his head. “And doubtless tear off all alone to London,” he said. “It is madness, ma’am. I cannot allow it.”
    He had once watched a hot air balloon filling with air in preparation for taking its owners up into the sky. Miss Middleton bore a distinct resemblance to that balloon for a few moments as she inhaled audibly through her nose. “ You cannot allow it?” she said. “I must remind you, sir, that you have no responsibility whatsoever for my actions.”
    “But having rescued you from one decidedly perilous situation,” he. said, “I feel a certain vested interest in keeping you rescued.”
    She was stuffing her belongings back inside the valise with even less care than before. “I am not going to my aunt’s,” she said, “and I am not going back home. I am going in pursuit of Mr. Porterhouse and my jewels. And I shall find them, too, even if I have to circle the globe in order to do so.”
    The duke was standing beside the bed, blowing out his cheeks. “Tell me,” he said, after watching her struggle with the clasp of her valise for a few silent moments, “do you know anyone in London?”
    She looked up at him and thought for a moment. “Grandmama,” she said. “Mama’s mother, that is. And Aunt Elsie.”
    “Very well,” he said with sudden decision. “Highly improper as it is, I shall convey you that far, ma’am, since you seem determined to go anyway. And I don’t believe you will find a faster vehicle here than my curricle or a faster set of horses than my own.”
    She looked full into his eyes, not very far above the level of her own, and favored him with a wide smile. “You are going to take me?” she said. “Oh, I knew you would. You are a very kind gentleman.”
    He rocked on his heels. His hair, she was pleased to notice, had already escaped from the taming he had given it earlier. It was looking nicely unruly again. He looked very pleasant and dependable. But it was a comfort to know that the coat covering his slender frame hid some very impressive muscles.
    “I think,” the Duke of Mitford said mildly, “I am a very mad gentleman, ma’am.”

Chapter 5
    He was even more convinced of the truth of his judgment on himself before they drove out of the innyard. It was a sad and sudden insanity. He had always led a proper and exemplary life. He was known as a dull dog—certainly as no one who would be likely to involve himself in any activity that was remotely daring or improper.
    What was he doing, then at nine o’clock in the morning, tooling out to the king’s highway in his curricle, a flushed and rumpled young lady at his side, and nary a maid or groom or maiden aunt in sight?
    He was turning north with her, that was what he was doing. Turning north toward an unknown destination, not south in the direction of London and her grandmother and aunt as he had planned to do.
    He had left the inn room ahead of her. “Give me ten minutes,” he had said. “By that time the curricle will be ready and we can be off with the minimum of fuss.”
    “Yes, sir,” she had said, still flushed and agitated from her discovery of the loss of her jewels. “Ten minutes it is. But please make them a fast ten minutes.”
    He had gone downstairs, puzzling over that last sentence and wondering if the bride his grandfather had chosen as so suitable to his position had any brains at all. It was rather disconcerting to think he had almost married a girl who had no brains.
    At least she was shorter than he. The top of her head reached barely to his chin. That was some consolation, at least, though totally irrelevant to the present situation.
    She had waited seven minutes. He could have forgiven her the three since all was ready for departure by that time, anyway. Unfortunately he had forgotten when he left the room that she was brainless. The only strict instruction he had given was that she must wait ten minutes. He