Free Patrica Rice by Mad Marias Daughter

we are both mature enough to recognize a friend when we see one.”
    A friend. Yes, that would be right and proper. One did not have this easy companionship with a suitor. Daphne had seen that from observation of her cousins, not from any experience of her own. Courtship was a stiff formality with one intent in mind. Friendship was a freer flowing feeling, an easiness and a familiarity that she felt in the company of Jane Dalrymple, or Lord Griffin. Relaxing, she smiled up at him.
    “You are very persuasive ... Gordon.” She tried the name cautiously, waiting for some sign of repulse from the charming man beside her.
    “I can be when I know what I want ... Daphne.” He paused before her name for emphasis, smiling as he lifted her gloved hand and bowed over it.
    Now. She should act now. Ask if he knew his brother were alive and well and stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. Or perhaps that wasn’t Evan Griffin in the woods, but this man. The scent of bay rum confused her. How could she insult him by asking such questions? How could they be friends without knowing the answers?
    There was no time to find out. The shouts and yells from below declared a winner, and with a gentle squeeze of her hand, Gordon assisted her back into the saddle.
    The thought came to her then that she could be riding beside a thief, an impostor, and once again, fear and confusion froze her into silence.
     

Chapter Six
     
    This way lay madness, Daphne declared to herself as she urged the young pony down the lane.
    Her aunt had remembered a long neglected pony cart buried in the stables and the grooms had dragged it out, repaired it, and given it a fresh new coat of green paint. It wasn’t fashionable, but Daphne had little use for fashion. Going to the village in the pony cart was much more comfortable than walking on a weak leg. She had already made the journey once without mishap, so she was feeling fairly confident.
    It wasn’t her trip into the village that was madness, but her tumultuous thoughts about the viscount and his wayward brother, or the two of them as one, whatever the case might be. She had gone so far as to return to the woods and river in hopes of discovering the elusive Robin Hood, and now she was making spurious trips to the village in hopes of finding him there again. She had to get to the bottom of this mystery, although why, she couldn’t say.
    The thief had struck again last night. This time Squire Dalrymple had been the target, and this morning the countryside was in an uproar. Captain Rollings had already been out to the house inquiring if anyone had heard or seen anything unusual during the night. The blasted thief had set his trap practically at their front door.
    How dare he! Daphne gritted her teeth and lashed the reins to speed the pony’s progress. He had to have escaped through their side lawn, practically under their windows. If she could only lay her hands on that man . . .
    Madness. What could she do with a man twice her size? Curse him? She should have let Captain Rollings have him that first time. For all the world she could not imagine why she had not. That would have solved the mystery, and she would have been able to live in peace. As it was, she kept waiting for the devil to show up every time she turned her back.
    As they clattered onto the cobbled road of the village, Daphne slowed the pony. The maid beside her let out a sigh of relief and released her death grip on the side of the cart, but Daphne gave her little notice. She concentrated on avoiding the unusual number of strollers in the road this morning.
    “Out! Away with ye!We don’t take to beggars in these parts!” The woman’s harsh voice caught Daphne’s attention. Halting the cart in front of the millinery, she glanced about, trying to locate the source of the commotion.
    “I’m not begging. I’m just looking for a bit of work. Do ye not need your garden spaded or your steps scrubbed? I’ll do aught for a coin or