The Devil's Love Read Free Page A

skirts onto a seat across
    from the woman.
    “Mrs. Petty’s the name. I been hired on to see you to Blessing Park,” the woman
    growled.
    “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Petty,” Abbey replied, relieved the woman had
    finally spoken and eager to believe she had misjudged the old crone. “I, of course, am Abigail Carrington. Well, actually, I’m Abbey.”
    “I know who you are,” the dour woman snapped.
    Abbey ignored her nasty demeanor and smiled bravely. If there was one thing she
    had learned in a life of travel, a sincere smile was welcome in all ports. For all she knew, Blessing Park was halfway across the country, and she faced the
    distinct possibility that she could be in the company of this sourpuss for some
    time.
    “Are you a relative of Lord Darfield?” she asked in an effort to make polite conversation.
    The woman’s red-rimmed eyes narrowed. “Certainly not!” she snapped.
    Confused, Abbey bit her lower lip. “Is Lord Darfield at Blessing Park?” she
    asked in a tight voice, wondering just how far exactly she would have to travel
    with this woman.
    “Don’t know. Just hired on to escort you, not to fill a book on his whereabouts,” she snarled.
    Abbey nodded, mouthed the words “I see,” and slid her gaze to the window. The
    snow was beginning to thicken, which did not help in the least to temper the
    feeling of pure dread that was beginning to build in her. The coach rocked as
    her trunks were loaded. Suddenly, the coach lurched forward.
    “How far to Blessing Park?” Abbey asked cautiously once she had secured herself
    again.
    Mrs. Petty bestowed a disdainful gaze on her. “Two hours on a good day.
    Slower
    in the snow.”
    Abbey smiled politely and wondered if her wait of twelve years for Michael Ingram was about to be eclipsed by a more interminable wait of two hours with
    Mrs. Petty.
    They rode in tense silence for what seemed like hours to Abbey. The uncommunicative Mrs. Petty sat rigidly in her seat, staring vacantly out the
    window. Abbey was dying to ply her with questions but she wisely kept silent and
    allowed her thoughts to wander to excuses for why Michael had not met her.
    Obviously something very important must have kept him, or he would have been
    there. She further deduced that Michael had been forced to hire an escort, and
    seeing how this appeared to be a very rural area, he obviously did not have many
    suitable candidates from which to choose. She guessed that he was now impatiently pacing in front of his hearth, having realized the snowfall would delay her arrival. He was undoubtedly very worried and was probably, at this
    very moment, calling for a mount, determined to search for her himself…
    A jarring of the coach jolted Abbey from her daydream; it took her a moment to
    gather her bearings. She had sunk down against luxurious squabs. Slowly
    she
    pushed herself upright, stealing a glance at Mrs. Petty, who was sneering openly
    at her. Outside, the world was a blinding white; the thick snow obscured any
    remarkable feature in the landscape.
    “Where are we?” Abbey asked.
    “Pemberheath,” Mrs. Petty grunted, then leaned forward to peer outside.
    “Pemberheath?” Abbey did not expect her to answer, and not one to disappoint,
    Mrs. Petty did not. The coach of the door was suddenly thrown open, and the
    toothless Mannheim shoved his head inside.
    “Message says to stay here overnight. Roads are bad,” he said with a grunt.
    “ Overnight?” Mrs. Petty fairly shrieked.
    Mannheim shrugged indifferently. “He left some coin and arranged for two rooms.”
    With that his head disappeared and the coach door slammed shut.
    Mrs. Petty turned a murderous gaze to Abbey as if she had caused the foul
    weather. “I ain’t no nursemaid, miss. You got to fend for yourself,” she snapped.
    Abbey raised one finely sculpted dark brow and, biting back the stinging rebuke
    that she had never been waited on in her life and certainly wasn’t going to start with the