Free Helen Dickson by Marrying Miss Monkton Page B

what they are. The devil’s own. God save us.’
    Pierre voiced Maria’s own apprehension. The horseswere uneasy, their eyes alert, ears pricked and tremulous tails.
    That was the moment when Charles took positive action. When he was close enough his hand shot out and he caught the leader by the coat front. Then his arm stiffened and he shoved the man backwards to crash into his comrades. The impact knocked several of them down into the dirt. They got to their feet, shouting and cursing, only to stare straight into the muzzle of Charles’s pistol. The mob had no stomach for gunfire.
    ‘A man’s a fool to wander through France unarmed today,’ Charles said, hoping it would discourage these madmen from inflicting harm and allowing the incident to degenerate into wholesale brigandage, as it threatened to do.
    Inside the coach Maria watched the whole terrifying proceedings, the howling of the village’s inhabitants loud in her ears. An odd shiver tingled down her spine at the sound and she set her teeth and tried to shut her ears.
    Until that moment she had admired Charles’s utmost forbearance in his dealing with the crowd, but she uttered a gasp of horror when she saw him brandish the pistol. Knowing that one man armed with a pistol didn’t stand a chance of surviving against an angry mob, thinking quickly, inspiration struck. Opening her reticule, she pulled out a small pot of rouge.
    Shrouded in her cloak, her hood pulled well over her head and holding it together so that only her eyes showed, she opened the door and climbed out. All eyes except Charles’s became focused on her, but he knew she was there and silently cursed her idiocy for disobeying him.
    Moving closer to Charles, Maria could almost feelthe effort he was exerting to keep his rage under control. She knew that relaxed, almost indolent stance of his was only a surface calm, beneath which was a murderous fury which he would no doubt unleash on her later.
    She was numb to every emotion save a gnawing fear that feasted heartily upon what courage she could muster. She set her mind not to appear frightened beneath the hideous stares and bold leers that were directed at her, yet her knees had a strange tendency to shake beneath her. Despite her show of self-control, she was desperately afraid, not knowing what lay in store for them, but convinced now that the miscreants planned some hideous fate.
    Disconcertedly she moved her gaze to Charles. His dark hair was stirred by the light breeze. Standing stiff and appearing to be in complete control of his actions, he seemed like a stranger, a man she did not know, distant, frowning.
    Suddenly a bearded rough standing to one side of the leader nudged his neighbour with his elbow.
    ‘Nice, isn’t she?’ he said. ‘But I’d like to see more of her, eh?’
    ‘Lends a bit of a swank to our company,’ said another.
    Another ill-favoured, toothless individual shrilled his assent to the statement, lifting his stick to emphasise his words.
    Beneath Maria’s blazing glower, the bearded man made a turn about her, a careless swagger in his walk. He gave her a lusty perusal, his mind holding lewd thoughts. Reaching out with his gnarled hand, he gave her hood a firm tug with a gesture that was at once peremptory. ‘I’m Handsome,’ he said.
    She slapped down his hand with ill temper. ‘That’s a matter of opinion.’
    A roar of laughter shook his audience.
    ‘That’s got nothing to do with his looks,’ snarled the hatchet face. ‘It’s his name. Handsome, that’s what he’s called.’ He scowled at her. ‘Going far, are you?’
    ‘Yes, as a matter of fact. To the coast. The doctor recommended it for—my health, you see.’ When the bearded rough made a move to touch her again, she glared at him. ‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You might have cause to regret it. I’ve been ill, you see, and I’m not completely recovered—smallpox, it was.’
    The leader’s eyes narrowed as they flicked like a