Anne Gracie - [The Devil Riders 02] by His Captive Lady Page A

way. Several people had seen him coming back from London. Not one of them had seen him with a baby in a basket lined with white satin.
    She’d searched and questioned people all along the London road until her money ran out and she’d sold her own horse. She kept going, certain that news of her daughter would be at the next house, or the next. Finally, destitute and reeling with hunger and cold, she realized if she was not careful, she could die in a ditch, or at a crossroads, like Papa.
    And then what would become of Torie?
    So, refusing to despair, she’d turned around and dragged herself home, back to Firmin Court. She had to get home and prepare herself properly for this search.
    So her baby must be in London—somewhere. Nell was determined. No stone would remain unturned. She would search till she dropped.
    She reached Mrs. Beasley’s lodgings and hurried upstairs to fetch another shawl. She would have to go back inside the pump room, face those smoking gray eyes.
    She hoped he would stay away, but she didn’t feel very optimistic. He was going to cause trouble, she knew it in her bones. She’d seen the way he’d stiffened in outrage at the way Mrs. Beasley had scolded Nell about the shawl. He was going to get all gallant on her.
    And if he did, there would be hell to pay.
    Mrs. Beasley liked to be the center of attention. She’d lived her life until now as a virtuous wife: now she was ready to become a dashing widow. Her nastiness didn’t bother Nell in the least. There were compensations. She kept Nell at her beck and call every waking moment, but since the woman never rose before midday, Nell’s mornings were totally free.
    In London, Nell would be able to use those precious morning hours to search for Torie. Few positions would allow her that much freedom. She needed—quite desperately—to keep this job, and not have it threatened by a well-meaning man who had no idea of how things really stood.
     
 
Every one of Harry’s senses sharpened the moment Nell slipped quietly back into the Pump Room. She was a little flushed and her chest rose and fell rapidly; she’d been running. He frowned at her chest. She’d seemed quite flat in that region before. How had he missed those delicious curves?
    He felt his body stirring and hastily forced it to behave. He was in the Pump Room, for heaven’s sake, with his aunt beside him.
    “Here, dear boy, drink some water.” A glass was pressed into his hand and without thinking, he lifted it to his lips and drank deeply. “Faugh!” He just managed not to spit out the foul-tasting spa water. “That’s disgusting.”
    With a smug smile Aunt Maude removed the glass from his hand. “Yes, I know, and you deserved every last drop, dear boy, for putting me through all those dreary cits. I am inclined to forgive you, though—”
    “Oh, are you indeed?”
    “Yes, for this promises to be extremely entertaining, whatever the outcome. Do you know she hasn’t glanced even once in this direction? It’s most unnatural. Do you think she’s making a point?” She smiled at Harry guilelessly.
    He glowered back, a bitter taste in his mouth. “It won’t do her any good. I have every intention of speaking to her.”
    “And I suppose you think you’ll just walk over and start talking to her. As if that harpy isn’t going to interfere?”
    He gave her a cool look. “Naturally I have a plan.”
    “Have you indeed?”
    “Yes, it’s a simple matter of strategy. You and your friend Lady Lattimer will engage the enemy in conversation.”
    “Will we? How delightful. And what shall we talk about?”
    “I don’t know. Some sort of private feminine matter.”
    “What would you know about private feminine matters?”
    “Very little, thank God, but it will give you an excuse for banishing Nell—”
    “Nell?”
    “Lady Helen.” He tried to ignore the smile playing about his aunt’s lips. She was enjoying this, damn her. “The point is, you must make it clear to the