Free An Unlikely Duchess by Mary Balogh Page A

had not thought it necessary to spell out for her again the importance of slipping quietly from the inn, stepping up quietly into the curricle with his assistance, and sitting quietly beside him until they were out in open country so that only a few grooms would witness the impropriety of a young lady making off alone with a young gentleman. A young lady and gentleman who had not registered at the inn as husband and wife.
    He had forgotten to give those instructions. Or rather, he had not thought it necessary to give them. Any properly brought up young lady with half a brain would have known for herself. She would have kept her head lowered and her chin tucked against her chest.
    Lord, why had he not traveled in his closed carriage? And with Henry and his baggage and numerous coachmen and footmen? And by a different route?
    When she came, she paused in the doorway of the inn, looked all about her with bright and curious eyes, picked out the head ostler, and hailed him in a voice that was accustomed to be both heard and obeyed.
    The Duke of Mitford closed his eyes and offered up a brief prayer that no one he knew would ever hear of this scene.
    “I arrived here last night with a gentleman,” Josephine Middleton announced to the head ostler, every other ostler in the innyard, every servant and guest at the inn, and every inhabitant of the village beyond. “A tall, handsome dark-haired gentleman. Did you by any chance see him leave?”
    The ostler lifted his cap and scratched his head. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “That be the gruff and grim gent what was in such a hurry to get on his way at first light?” he said.
    “Oh,” the girl sang out for all the world to enjoy, “that would have been Papa, who was in pursuit of me. No, this was a young man, who left last night.”
    The head ostler had not been on duty last night after nine o’clock. He would have to go and consult with someone called Sam.
    The Duke of Mitford did not grab her by the scruff of the neck and deposit her in his curricle. He did not make off alone and leave her to her fate. He did not do any of the things he might and should have done. He waited meekly beside the horses, waiting for the world to take note that he was about to abscond with a very young lady with whom he had not arrived the night before.
    He knew of no other way of dealing with the matter. He had no experience in handling embarrassing and improper situations.
    Sam—a totally bald giant whom one would certainly not want to meet in a dark alley at night—emerged from the inn with the innkeeper and two unidentified maids in tow. And Sam was quite insistent that the handsome gent had traveled north, not south.
    Josephine Middleton was skeptical. The Duke of Mitford was skeptical too, though he did not open his mouth to say so, or anything else for that matter. But Sam was adamant. And ultimately convincing. He was the gent who had the bright blue and yellow carriage, was he not?
    “Yes, indeed,” Miss Middleton answered. “A very bright blue and yellow.”
    “And ‘e was the gent who looked dazed in ’is eyes and what chucked up ’is vittles in the corner there where there is now a pile of straw?” The huge bald head nodded in the direction of one comer of the innyard.
    “Yes,” Miss Middleton said, eyes kindling, “he was the gentleman.”
    Sam spat and ground his heel into the foaming patch. “ ’e went north,” he said.
    And who was to argue with someone of Sam’s conviction and physique?
    “Actually,” Miss Middleton said, settling herself into the seat beside the duke as he took his horses through the gateway of the inn into the street beyond, “it makes sense. I don’t believe Mr. Porterhouse is a stupid man, and it would be rather stupid to head for London, where pursuit was bound to follow him. It makes sense for him to turn north.” She turned to wave to the innkeeper and Sam and the head ostler and the unidentified maids and anyone else