The Viscount's Revenge (The Royal Ambition Series Book 4) by M. C. Beaton Page B

wonder you bothered to come,” remarked Amanda crossly.
     
    Susan turned on the half-landing and gave Amanda a bright stare out of her black eyes. “I wanted to make sure Lady Mary’s property was being guarded,” she said with that quick toss of her black hair.
     
    Amanda went scarlet, thinking of the jewels, thinking that Susan was calling her a thief.
     
    “I am not in the habit of stealing!” said Amanda hotly.
     
    “Then make sure you do not steal another woman’s fiancé,” retorted Susan, and stumped off down the corridor before Amanda had time to reply.
     
    Amanda was furious, and then, as she went into her bedroom, her fury was replaced with a sort of comfortable glow. It was pleasant in a way to be regarded as dangerous where Lord Hawksborough was concerned, if only by his eccentric sister.
     
    Amanda spent the next few minutes exploring the contents of her room more fully. She found a pristine diary in a drawer in the writing table, and after a moment’s hesitation, sat down, and taking up a brassnibbed pen, began to write about her tour around the sights of London, and then of all her worries about the robbery, and her hopes that Richard would find a way to restore the jewels.
     
    When she had finished, she looked about for some place to hide the diary where it would not be found by the servants.
     
    Finally she stood on a chair and put it on the top of the tallboy at the back where it could not be seen by anyone standing at floor level.
     
    She dusted her hands and climbed down. The house was very silent—silent now that her ears had become accustomed to the noises of the town outside.
     
    Amanda decided to make her way to the library to see if she could find something to read.
     
    She had a faint hope she might find Lord Hawksborough there so that perhaps they might talk without the company of angry Susan.
     
    She was disappointed to find that although Lord Hawksborough was in the library, he was not alone.
     
    “Come in, Miss Amanda,” called the viscount as she hesitated in the doorway. “I would like you to meet the famous Bow Street Runner, Mr. Townsend. I feel sure he will catch those highwaymen for me.”
     
    Was it a trick of the light or had Miss Colby gone extremely pale? wondered Lord Hawksborough. But she came forward and dropped a curtsy, sending the Bow Street Runner a green sidelong look from under her lashes.
     
    Mr. Townsend was a very smart, portly man, “clean as paint,” to use his own expression. He wore a most peculiar costume. He was encased in a light and loud suit, knee breeches and short gaiters, and a white hat of great breadth of brim. In his hand he carried a tiny baton with a gilt crown on the top.
     
    He acknowledged Amanda’s curtsy with a clumsy bow and then turned to Lord Hawksborough to continue his conversation.
     
    “So, as I was saying, my lord, I’ll snaffle ’em for you. Wearing wigs, you think? And masks? I’ll snaffle them coves and then get ’em to doff their sham phizzes, and we’ll see who we’ve got for Jack Ketch. Drawing and quartering’s too good for the likes o’ them.”
     
    “Have… have you any idea who these villains might be?” asked Amanda in a sort of dry whisper.
     
    “Not yet, my pretty,” said the Runner, taking a sip from the glass of wine that Lord Hawksborough had handed him. “And that’s odd,” he went on, “for I thought I knew every kiddy on the High Toby lay. I thinks this is the work o’ some lucky amateurs.
     
    “Think, begging your lordship’s permission, I’ll take a journey down to that Hember Cross and sniff around.”
     
    Amanda sat down suddenly.
     
    “Yes, Miss Colby,” said Mr. Townsend, staring at her from under the sort of combined eaves of his flaxen wig and his large hat, “everyone who’s anyone will tell you Townsend of Bow Street is the best. Two young noblemen came up to me one day near the palace, and one of these here sprigs says to the other, ‘I will introduce