Page 7 of An Honorable Arrangement
"I am not a child, sir. I am nearly one and twenty. Now, are you going to tell me where my father is or not?" It wasn't easy to keep the shriek from her voice, but no one in the street turned, so she assumed she'd done well enough.
Once again, he looked at the sky as if the answer was there. He shrugged and smiled. He was quite attractive when his smile fixed on her. Not so good-looking as Mr. Witman, though.
Where had that thought come from?
"Miss Sommers, perhaps it would be best if I accompanied you to see your father. It is a good walk from here, and I would be remiss to send you on such a trek unaccompanied. You might get lost, and I could not forgive myself should you be injured."
This had taken a strange turn. "You don't even know me. Why should you care if I am lost? Besides, I am only walking. There is no danger."
"Yet, I feel obligated to see you safely to Fallcrest." He raised his brows and bowed before offering his arm.
Sarah nodded her agreement but didn’t touch him. He was, after all, just a stranger. "How far is the walk, Captain?"
"Two miles northeast." He pointed out of town.
Glad she had chosen sturdy walking boots, she went with her new acquaintance toward her father's estate. A quiver of excitement started in her belly. Everything would be put to rights once she was home.
ChapterThree
Monty's temper was near its breaking point when he rode into Bristol. He'd instructed Ian, to drive Mrs. Pratt and hired a very large footman to ensure her safety. He’d then ridden ahead on horseback to try to catch Sarah before she arrived.
Mrs. Pratt had surmised that Sarah had headed out to find her father. The same father that Monty had been told was dead. Instead, he discovered he was in fact alive and living near Bristol, which was in the opposite direction of where he was required to escort her.
No matter how hard he rode, or how many fresh horses he obtained, the damned post was always a few hours ahead of him.
However, now, the toothless driver was unloading his mail.
Jumping down from his mount, Monty eyed the man. "Where is Miss Sarah Sommers?"
The driver pulled back. "I don't know who you mean, sir. I'm just the post driver."
"The young woman you brought from Oxford." Monty made an effort to keep his temper down. It wasn't the postman's fault his charge was a willful nit who’d escaped and put herself in danger.
"She was collected by a soldier when we arrived," he said with a thick cockney accent.
Collected? What did he mean, collected? Fear for Sarah's welfare rose above Monty's anger. "Do you know which way they went?"
The driver shrugged. "No idea, sir. They talked for a time and then left. I only deliver the mail. I'm not charged to watch the passengers."
"No." Monty took the reins and led his horse to the public house. Mrs. Pratt thought Sarah would go to see her father. It was easy enough to ask after the home of Bertram Sommers. The fact that the barkeep scowled when he mentioned him didn't sit well with Monty. He would deal with one problem at a time. He had to find Sarah and bring her to his uncle's house. That was what he’d been sent to do, and that was what he would do.
He headed out of town toward Fallcrest Manor and rode slowly to regain his composure before he saw Sarah and scolded her soundly.
Limbs had fallen from the trees lining the drive and had lain rotting there for years. The overgrown yard looked little better. Dilapidated and in shameful disrepair, Fallcrest Manor looked to have once been a pretty property.
On top of the steps by the front door stood his quarry. "Miss Sommers, what do you think you're doing?"
Sarah spun and gaped like a fish out of water before she closed her mouth and stood just slightly behind the red-coated army officer.
With raised brows, the captain watched Monty approach. He glanced behind himself. "I seem to be at a disadvantage. Miss Sommers, would you care to tell me what's going on and who this gentleman is?"
"My jailer," she bit out.
"Hmm. Interesting. What is your crime?" The captain grinned.
"I was born a woman to be passed from one prison to another," she said.
Monty dismounted and climbed the steps. "I am not your jailer. Why did you run away?"
