Free At the Highwayman's Pleasure by Sarah Mallory Page A

great effect from the pulpit—and was obliged to ignore the chill it sent running through her.
    He cannot hurt me. He has no power here.
    She raised her brows and forced herself to remain calm.
    ‘It is my name, too, and if the reports are to be believed I am raising it out of the mire. Not that I have told anyone of the connection between us.’
    His eyes snapped.
    ‘When people told me that an actress—’ he almost shivered with revulsion as he spoke the word ‘—that an actress calling herself Mrs Weston was playing in Allingford, I could not believe it was you. Then I heard talk that my daughter—my daughter!—was exhibiting herself on the stage. I tried to put an end to such rumours, but it is too widely spoken of, so I judged it was time to come and see for myself.’
    Charity spread her hands.
    ‘And now you have seen,’ she said coldly. ‘Are you satisfied?’
    His brow darkened. ‘Still the same pride, still that same stubborn wilfulness that I tried so hard to dispel—’
    ‘That you tried to beat out of me!’
    ‘Aye, and I should have thrashed you harder,’ he snarled. ‘As it is I have to watch you prostituting yourself—’
    ‘I am acting . That is all it is.’
    ‘It is a monstrous abomination and you are the purveyor of evil.’
    She managed a laugh.
    ‘Good heavens, one would think you were speaking of Bonaparte himself!’
    Phineas drew back, glaring at her from under beetling brows.
    ‘The Emperor has his faults, but he is God’s instrument.’
    ‘Bonaparte?’ she said, surprised. ‘He is a tyrant. An enemy of England.’
    ‘England has more enemies within,’ roared Phineas. ‘Sinners and those who wish to see the country once again under the heel of the Pope! Bonaparte is the scourge of the papists. There are some who think he is an agent of the Messiah, whereas you , madam, are an agent of the devil!’
    ‘Now, Phineas, don’t you be getting yourself in a bother about this.’
    The woman standing beside Phineas spoke for the first time. Charity assumed this was his wife, the third Mrs Weston, and when she took a moment to study her she was surprised how young she was, possibly even younger than herself, but a constant look of dissatisfaction had left permanent lines upon her once-pretty face. She smiled, although her brown eyes held a calculating look.
    ‘My dear Charity—may I call you that? After all, I am your mama now.’ Her affected laugh grated upon Charity’s ears. ‘We did not come to quarrel with you, dear, but you must see that to have you here, not fifteen miles from our home, is a little difficult for your papa. After all, he is a justice now.’
    ‘I don’t see that my being here has any bearing upon you at all,’ replied Charity. ‘Allingford does not come under your jurisdiction.’
    ‘But to have you parading yourself on the stage, for all the world to gape at and ogle—’tis an outrage.’
    ‘I am an actress, and a respectable one,’ retorted Charity, putting up her chin.
    ‘You are little better than a trollop from the streets,’ Phineas declared. ‘If you had any proper feeling, you would be using a different name rather than disgracing mine.’
    ‘It is my name, too, and I am not ashamed to use it,’ she said coldly. ‘No one has asked me yet if we are related, but if they do I will deny it, if that is what you wish.’
    ‘So you would add lying to your many sins.’
    Charity raised her brows and said sweetly, ‘If you denied the rumours, were you not just as guilty? Now, if you will excuse me, I have to prepare for my next performance.’
    Phineas glared at her, his nostrils flaring.
    ‘Unfeeling, unnatural child. To be flaunting yourself in this den of vice—’
    ‘If you are so disgusted with my performance, I suggest you leave now,’ Charity interrupted him.
    ‘I shall, immediately, but don’t think you have heard the last of this—’
    ‘Now, now, my dear, let us not be too hasty.’ His wife caught his arm. ‘We should