The Highwayman's Mistress by Francine Howarth Page A

“Thank God, you’re safe too,” said her
mother. “We feared we might be too late for Hugh, that Francois, like his
father, would . . .” Her mother paused mid-sentence, caught up Diamonta’s hand
and drew it to her bosom. “I’ve wronged you, my darling. Wronged Francois, and
all because I could not forget nor forgive Francois’ father for something that
happened a very long time ago. It is something I have every reason to be
ashamed of, for unlike you, I failed to win the heart of de Boviere and I
shamefully sought revenge.”
      “I know, but you were young, and wounded by
betrayal at that time, whereas I am so lucky, oh so lucky. I have a man I adore
who loves me in like manner.”
      “Can you ever see it in your heart to
forgive me, forgive my cruelness?”
      She threw herself at her mother and hugged
tight. “I love you, nothing can change that, and I forgive you, as I forgive
Francois for thinking Hugh was my lover.”
      “I love you too, my darling girl.”
      A chuckle came from behind, and there stood
Francois both rapiers in hand. “Your friend, mere friend is disarmed and alive,
perhaps never to challenge such as I again.”
      Her mother relinquished her hold and turned
to Francois. “I greatly dishonoured you, and cannot ask your forgiveness. But I
will ask that you take my daughter’s hand in marriage, that you will love her
and keep her safe.”
      Francois bowed. “I accept your kind offer,
but we are as man and wife already.”
      “I had not expected otherwise.” Her mother smiled,
a loving smile. “Do you think it possible a wedding could be arranged before I
return to England?”
      “It shall be so, for I love her with all my
heart.” He chuckled again. “I fear I must apologise for indecent dress.”
      Her mother smiled. “You are your father’s
son, no doubt about that, and in many ways. Now be off with you, the pair of
you. I can wait until you are both decent to receive me.”
      Diamonta grabbed Francois hand and dragged
him away from her mother’s appraising eyes, and whispered, “You’ve won her
over. She’s smitten.”
      “You are your mother’s daughter, in many
ways, and I smitten.” He laughed, hugged her to him, and kissed her head. “How
long do we have?”
      “As long as we need.”
      “Good.”
      “One thing,” she said, as they entered the
hall. “Tell me. Why did you rent a house in Faringdon?”
      “Am I the Oxfordshire Highwayman, is the
next question. Correct?”
      “Yes, I suppose so. Though it matters not in
so much as I love you. I am though, of a curious nature.”
      He chuckled, half dragging her up the
staircase in haste of their making the most of moments alone in the privacy of
their bedchamber. “I shall say this once, and then the matter is forgotten. The
house in Faringdon served my purpose for two months. From there I secured the
services of four mercenary soldiers and together we returned to Guernsey. I
needed armed men who were capable of carrying out a secret mission. From under
the noses of soldiers of the Republique we stole away the treasures of Saint
Mont Marche, the de Boviere jewels, and Angelica now has her dowry returned in
full. To which, I believe will come into your brother’s hands very shortly. For
they are, I think, to be wed.”
      “Oh how delightful.” She laughed, her heart
tripping over itself. “Ha. He too will marry a Frenchy .”
      “ Frenchy ?” Francois brows hooded his
dark eyes, and the memory of a highwayman kissing her fingers leapt to mind.
“You shall pay for that, Diamonta. Pay dearly.”
      “I had thought I might.”
     
    The End.
     
    ~~
     
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