Page 63 of Ravished

Applegate's eyes filled with admiration. "Your sense of honor in this matter does you credit, my dear. But no one really expects you to remain loyal to the man. After all, he is St. Justin. His own reputation precludes him from demanding loyalty and respect from someone as sweet and charming and innocent as yourself."

Harriet, weary of explaining herself, decided to try another tactic. "What if I were to tell you that I am not all that innocent, sir?"

Applegate drew himself up stiffly. "I should not believe it, Miss Pomeroy. Anyone can tell from just looking at you that you are all that is innocent and virtuous."

"Just by looking at me?"

"Of course. In addition, please recall that I have the advantage of having formed an intimate intellectual connection with you. A mind as well informed as yours is incapable of lowering itself to impure thoughts, much less acting upon them."

"That is an interesting conclusion," Harriet murmured. She was about to argue the point when she realized the coach was slowing.

"I say." Lord Fry broke off his song and took another nip from the bottle. "Stopping for a bite to eat, are we? Excellent notion. Could do with a visit to Jericho while we're at it."

"Really, Fry." Lady Youngstreet playfully slapped his hand with her fan and gave him a droll look. "You must not be so indelicate around the young people."

"Quite right." Fry bowed deeply to Harriet. "Apologies, Miss Pomeroy," he said in a slurred voice. "Don't know what got into me."

"I know what got into you," Lady Youngstreet declared gleefully. "A bottle of my best brandy. Hand it over, sir. It is my bottle, after all, and I intend to finish it."

There was a shout from outside the coach. Harriet heard the thunder of horses' hooves on the road. Another carriage was approaching swiftly from behind. It was almost dark now, but she recognized the yellow phaeton and the big horses that suddenly pulled up alongside Lady Youngstreet's coach.

The light, fast vehicle flashed past. She caught a glimpse of the driver. He was wearing a heavy greatcoat and a hat pulled down low over his eyes, but she would have recognized those massive shoulders anywhere.

Gideon had finally caught up with them.

There was another shout from the coachman's box and a string of angry curses as the traveling coach slowed still further.

"Damnation." Applegate frowned. "Some fool is forcing us to the side of the road."

Lady Youngstreet's eyes widened blearily. "Perhaps we are being stopped by a highwayman."

Fry scowled at her. "Never knew of a highwayman who used a phaeton."

"It is St. Justin," Harriet announced calmly. "I told you he would be along as soon as he realized what was happening."

"St. Justin?" Fry looked stunned. 'The devil you say. He's found us?"

"Nonsense. Told no one what was up tonight. He could not possibly have found us." Lady Youngstreet took a deep swallow from the brandy bottle and winked slyly.

"Well, he has," Harriet said. "Just as I knew he would."

Applegate looked rather pale, but he squared his shoulders resolutely. "Do not be afraid, Harriet. I will protect you from him."

Harriet was alarmed by that bold statement. The last thing she needed now was a display of heroics from Applegate. She knew Gideon would not react well to that.

The traveling coach had come to a complete halt. Harriet could hear the coachman speaking in surly tones to Gideon, demanding to know what this was all about.

"I will not detain you long," Gideon said. "I believe you have something on board that belongs to me."

Harriet heard the ring of his boots on the pavement, a sure sign he was not in a good mood. She gave her companions a warning look.

"Please listen very closely," Harriet told the others. "You must allow me to deal with St. Justin, do you understand?"

Applegate gave her an appalled look. "I will certainly not let you face the Beast alone. What sort of man do you think I am?"

The coach door was thrown open. "A good question, Applegate," Gideon said in a dark, menacing voice. He stood there looking thoroughly dangerous. His black greatcoat flowed around him like a sorcerer's cloak. The interior lamps of the coach illuminated his scarred face.

"There you are, St. Justin," Harriet said gently. "I was wondering when you would catch up with us. I vow, I have had a most pleasant drive. Lovely evening, is it not?"

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