Anne Barbour Read Free Page A

that is the case”—the words fairly crackled with disdain—”I demand that you produce my ward at once.”
    At this, Hester drew herself up to her full, if somewhat inadequate, height.
    “My good man, I do not know who you are, and I have no wish to remedy that circumstance. I will merely ask you to stop raving in incomprehensible periods and remove yourself from my front garden.”
    So saying, she turned her back and began to walk toward the cottage. Thorne stared after her in astonishment. Affront was evident in every line of the woman’s body, and, he noted detachedly, a fine little body it was, too. He shook himself irritably and strode after her. He grasped her arm, but released it hurriedly as she whirled on him, fist upraised.
    “It’s no good your taking that attitude,” he barked. “I know Chloe is here, and I demand to see her.”
    “Now look here,” said Hester, and Thorne noted that the brown eyes that had seemed so large and soft a few moments ago had turned to miniature volcanoes, spitting fire and brimstone. “You may stand there and demand till your eyes bubble, but I will tell you again, I have no idea what you are talking about. I do not know any Chloe and I do not know you, a situation I devoutly hope will prevail. Now, if you do not leave, I shall be forced to send for the constable.”
    Once more she turned away from him, and Thorne, loath to repeat his mistake, did not touch her, but stopped her by the simple expedient of placing himself in front of her.
    “It is I who may be forced to call the constable, Miss Blayne. I am the Ear! of Bythorne, and I have every reason to believe that you are giving refuge to my ward, Miss Chloe Venable.”
    The lady did not seem impressed with either his title or his statement. For a long moment, she simply stared at him. At length, she drew a deep breath.
    “Though I feel that at this point it is unwarranted—my lord—I shall do you the courtesy of assuming you are not mad, but simply misinformed. I decline, however, to stand here brangling with you before the world. Will you come inside, please?”
    Without waiting for an answer, she moved past him to open the cottage door. Again without waiting to see if he followed, she entered the little house.
    Growling silently, Thorne trooped in behind her, then glanced, with some surprise, about the room in which he found himself. Though small, it was comfortable and furnished with an unusual degree of elegance. Her family must be fairly well-to-do, he surmised, or perhaps she was under the protection of a gentleman of means.
    Gesturing to a chair, she rang a small bell placed on a sideboard and seated herself on a small settee opposite the seat taken by the earl.
    “Now then,” she began with some asperity, “what are you blithering about?”
    Grasping his temper with both hands, Thorne said harshly, “I am not blithering, Miss Blayne. My ward, Miss Chloe Venable, has run away from home, and it appears that she ran to you. Now, if you would have the goodness—
    “I do not know anyone named Chloe Venable, my lord. And, even if I did, what makes you think she has come here?”
    Thorne gritted his teeth and pulled Chloe’s note from his pocket. He read it aloud.
    Hester heard him in silence. “Well, I can certainly understand why she would not wish to remain in the same house with you, but do you actually believe,” she continued in astonishment, “that I am the ‘Someone Who Will Understand’?”
    Thorne then drew forth the charred letter he had found in Chloe’s hearth. “I believe this leaves little doubt as to your relationship,” he snarled. “It seems quite clear that you have encouraged her in her willfulness. This is your handwriting?”
    He stood to wave the paper before her nose, and she snatched it from his hand to peruse it.
    “Yes,” she said slowly. “It appears to be, but, I have never—
    “Do you see,” continued Thorne acidly, “where it says, ‘please do come’? If that