“He does not know already, does he?” she asked.
“Not as far as I am aware,” Miles said cheerfully. “Why does it matter? You have your pardon now, Lal. All you are doing is helping us with a bit of information. I am sure that Dexter will see the benefit of it and not feel too outraged that you evaded capture four years ago.”
“I am sure of nothing of the sort!” Laura snapped. She was feeling very unsettled now. The prospect of going to Dexter Anstruther and revealing herself to have been Glory the highwaywoman was intolerable. She spread her hands in a gesture of despair. “You know how odiously stiff-necked and upright Mr. Anstruther can be, Miles! He is bound to lecture me on the evil of my ways and come over all virtuous and principled! Oh!” She threw her hands up. “I could not bear it!”
Miles was laughing. “I’ll allow that Dexter can be rather righteous at times,” he said,
“but you must remind him that you took the role of Glory to avenge the poor and the weak.
You are not without principle yourself, Lal.”
“I doubt Mr. Anstruther will see it like that,” Laura said bitterly.
“What does it signify?” Miles asked. “Unless…” He eyed her shrewdly. “Unless his good opinion matters to you.”
“Hardly,” Laura said untruthfully. “He already holds me in dislike,” she added with a sigh. “This will see him despise me.”
“You could have fooled me,” Miles said caustically. “I saw you together at the assembly, Lal. Never have I felt so much de trop. Dislike is not what Dexter feels for you.” Laura could feel herself coloring up fierily. “Well, he will do after this,” she said.
“But you will do it?” Miles pressed.
“Of course,” Laura said tartly. “You have presented it as though I have a choice, Miles, but in fact I have none at all.” She sighed again. “Tell Mr. Anstruther that I will meet him tonight at Half Moon Inn. I can scarcely have him calling here. All the village tabbies would notice and I am already quite scandalous enough. And please send to warn Josie to put the private parlor aside for us, as well.”
“Do you need me to escort you?” Miles asked.
“Of course I do not!” Laura said crossly. “I was a highwaywoman, Miles. I have a brace of pistols and I can look after myself!” She stopped. “I beg your pardon,” she said, seeing his quizzical expression. “I am tired and on edge. Thank you for offering but it is quite unnecessary. And I would ask you not to tell Mr. Anstruther my identity in advance, Miles. If anyone has to explain this to him, it is me.”
“As you wish,” Miles said. “I will send word to Dexter. Thank you, Lal.”
“Don’t thank me,” Laura said wearily. “I am only doing this because you have twisted my arm, Miles. I will tell Mr. Anstruther whatever I can to help his investigation and then it will be finished.”
Finished indeed for Dexter and for her, she thought bitterly. In her heart she had known they had no future but this was a different matter entirely. After he learned the truth tonight he would never wish to see or speak to her again.
FOR A MAN who prided himself on his reputation for rectitude, Dexter Anstruther had seen the interior of more seedy alehouses than he cared to remember. Half Moon Inn, an inn on the Skipton road, was a cut above many of the London drinking dens he had slunk around in as part of his work, but it still had a rough clientele. A few heads turned as he entered the taproom that night before men turned back to stare into their pints of ale with studied lack of interest. A strikingly pretty barmaid with a disreputably low-cut blouse smiled warmly on seeing him but her smile faded when he asked for Josie Simmons, the landlady. A moment later, Josie burst through the door, sending the flagons flying, and stood looking him up and down, her hands on her hips. She was a huge woman, not fat but simply built on epic lines. She was as tall as Dexter but about twice
“Not as far as I am aware,” Miles said cheerfully. “Why does it matter? You have your pardon now, Lal. All you are doing is helping us with a bit of information. I am sure that Dexter will see the benefit of it and not feel too outraged that you evaded capture four years ago.”
“I am sure of nothing of the sort!” Laura snapped. She was feeling very unsettled now. The prospect of going to Dexter Anstruther and revealing herself to have been Glory the highwaywoman was intolerable. She spread her hands in a gesture of despair. “You know how odiously stiff-necked and upright Mr. Anstruther can be, Miles! He is bound to lecture me on the evil of my ways and come over all virtuous and principled! Oh!” She threw her hands up. “I could not bear it!”
Miles was laughing. “I’ll allow that Dexter can be rather righteous at times,” he said,
“but you must remind him that you took the role of Glory to avenge the poor and the weak.
You are not without principle yourself, Lal.”
“I doubt Mr. Anstruther will see it like that,” Laura said bitterly.
“What does it signify?” Miles asked. “Unless…” He eyed her shrewdly. “Unless his good opinion matters to you.”
“Hardly,” Laura said untruthfully. “He already holds me in dislike,” she added with a sigh. “This will see him despise me.”
“You could have fooled me,” Miles said caustically. “I saw you together at the assembly, Lal. Never have I felt so much de trop. Dislike is not what Dexter feels for you.” Laura could feel herself coloring up fierily. “Well, he will do after this,” she said.
“But you will do it?” Miles pressed.
“Of course,” Laura said tartly. “You have presented it as though I have a choice, Miles, but in fact I have none at all.” She sighed again. “Tell Mr. Anstruther that I will meet him tonight at Half Moon Inn. I can scarcely have him calling here. All the village tabbies would notice and I am already quite scandalous enough. And please send to warn Josie to put the private parlor aside for us, as well.”
“Do you need me to escort you?” Miles asked.
“Of course I do not!” Laura said crossly. “I was a highwaywoman, Miles. I have a brace of pistols and I can look after myself!” She stopped. “I beg your pardon,” she said, seeing his quizzical expression. “I am tired and on edge. Thank you for offering but it is quite unnecessary. And I would ask you not to tell Mr. Anstruther my identity in advance, Miles. If anyone has to explain this to him, it is me.”
“As you wish,” Miles said. “I will send word to Dexter. Thank you, Lal.”
“Don’t thank me,” Laura said wearily. “I am only doing this because you have twisted my arm, Miles. I will tell Mr. Anstruther whatever I can to help his investigation and then it will be finished.”
Finished indeed for Dexter and for her, she thought bitterly. In her heart she had known they had no future but this was a different matter entirely. After he learned the truth tonight he would never wish to see or speak to her again.
FOR A MAN who prided himself on his reputation for rectitude, Dexter Anstruther had seen the interior of more seedy alehouses than he cared to remember. Half Moon Inn, an inn on the Skipton road, was a cut above many of the London drinking dens he had slunk around in as part of his work, but it still had a rough clientele. A few heads turned as he entered the taproom that night before men turned back to stare into their pints of ale with studied lack of interest. A strikingly pretty barmaid with a disreputably low-cut blouse smiled warmly on seeing him but her smile faded when he asked for Josie Simmons, the landlady. A moment later, Josie burst through the door, sending the flagons flying, and stood looking him up and down, her hands on her hips. She was a huge woman, not fat but simply built on epic lines. She was as tall as Dexter but about twice
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