Free Sally James by Fortune at Stake

could not forebear glancing at him as she turned back towards the door, and the colour rose in her cheeks as she found him eyeing her in amusement, no whit put out by her words. He did not seek to detain her, but she lifted her head high as she left, his mocking laugh echoing in her ears as she went to find the landlord and discover the way to the nearest inn where she could expect to obtain a seat on the coach to London.
    She ignored the surprised looks of the ostlers when she ordered the black to be saddled and, when they pointed out it was a man’s saddle, curtly told them it was none of their business what saddle she chose to use or what clothes she wore. Then she mounted and rode off, thankful to be away from that inn and all of the people in it, but most of all thankful to have seen the last of Lord Chalford, and pushing from her thoughts the realization that she might find it difficult to avoid meeting him in London.
    The posting inn she had been directed to lay a few miles north of Monkswood, which she had to pass on her way. She rode swiftly past the lodge, afraid that the black horse she rode would be recognized, but she met only the occasional farmer in a gig and once a pair of elegantly attired young ladies riding docile hacks and correctly attended by an ancient groom. Susannah rode past them, her head high, and tried not to overhear their astonished gasps as they saw glimpses of her ankles, revealed because in order to ride astride she had been forced to hitch up her skirts. This encounter made her chary of riding straight into the yard of the posting inn and facing the stares of ostlers and travellers at her unconventional arrival. She preferred to manage the somewhat indecorous business of dismounting away from what she knew would be amused observation, so when the inn sign became visible she drew up in the shelter of some trees and slipped down from the saddle. Any attempt to tidy herself there would be futile, she very soon realized. Looping the reins over her arm, she walked the short distance to the inn and handed the horse over to an ostler, then entered to find the landlord and request a room where she could set her appearance to rights.
    She had just discovered that there was some time to wait before she could board a coach and had asked for a light nuncheon to be brought up to a private parlour when she heard an astonished exclamation behind her. Swinging round she saw Julian, his eyes wide and his mouth open, in the doorway leading to the coffee room.
    ‘Susannah! What the devil are you doing here?’
    ‘Julian. Oh, how thankful I am to see you! Landlord, bring food for my brother as well, if you please. Julian, we cannot talk here,’ she said urgently when he would have begun to ask indiscreet questions, and seizing his arm pulled him up the stairs in the wake of the maid who was leading the way to the room she had hired.
    ‘How did you come here?’ she demanded as soon as they were alone.
    ‘I hired a mount. It was Everard who carried you off, was it not?’
    ‘Yes, but did you recognize him when he held up the coach?’
    ‘Not immediately, but it was so unlikely highwaymen would have attacked us there, at that time of day, I smelled something fishy and thought of Everard. He hates being worsted, you know, and he would have been livid if you had repulsed him, as I take it you did, from what you said. I guessed he planned his revenge and, since he did not know you were my sister, must have thought he would be safe.’
    ‘Odious man! Julian, he is detestable. How can you be friends?’
    ‘He’s a good fellow,’ Julian said uncomfortably.
    ‘But what happened?
    ‘The pesky horse I hired went lame and it was hours before I could get another, so it was dark before I got to Monkswood. They were in a frightful stew, for all they knew was that Everard had appeared with a wench in tow and then had gone rushing off without a word of explanation. The girl was missing and also his favourite black