Page 36 of Rogue of the Greenwood
Robert was perplexed. “What is it, Much? What sort of trouble are you in?”
“Well, it’s not my trouble exactly… it’s a friend of mine.”
“A friend? Yes, of course we’ll help him any way we can,” Robert said.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Much said with a sheepish grin. “But my friend isn’t ahim.”
The man reached into the wagon and began unloading some of the huge pile of very useful looking blankets that he’d brought. The pile suddenly came to life. Robert stepped back, startled, as the blankets fell to one side and a young woman emerged.
“It’s aher,” Much announced.
John cursed, then cursed again as he apologized for using such language. The young woman was frightened and disheveled, clutching one of the blankets to her for security and blinking into the light. Much scrambled up into the wagon to be at her side.
“She needed to get away. Her ruddy family is trying to marry her off to that despicable sheriff! Can you imagine a gem like her with the likes ofhim?”
“Appalling,” Robert said, although in truth he could have probably said anything and Much would have reacted the same.
The miller’s full attention was on the young lady, carefully helping her out of the wagon and supporting her as she seemed a bit wobbly after her apparently harrowing escape. Although Much professed to be charitable in his efforts to save her from eminent marriage, it was obvious his motives were purely selfish. He was clearly very much in love with thiswoman, whoever she was.
“What is this, Much?” John asked. “We’ve already got a whole gaggle of women in there.”
“That’s why I brought her here,” Much replied. “She’ll be right at home.”
John tried to protest, but Alan slapped him on the back. “Give up, old man. He’s brought her here and it’s not like we can send her away. What’s one more, right? Come on fellows, Rob can sort it out. Let’s get these bags into house; I believe it’s starting to rain.”
Grumbling, John joined him, hefting two bags over his shoulder while Alan struggled with one. Obviously, they were perfectly happy to let Robert manage the situation with this young lady. The last thing he wanted was to be liable for yet one more helpless life, but she was here now and clearly needed shelter.
“Of course she is welcome,” he said, trying not to sound completely defeated. “Let’s get her things.”
Much helped her gather up a couple small parcels—she had not brought many things with her. It seemed her flight had been hasty, indeed. Robert felt sorry for the poor thing, she looked as terrified as a rabbit. What cruelty to match her up with Reeve.
Of course, many would consider that a good match and obviously her parents did. But the woman was well dressed and clearly came from prosperity. If her father was any sort of a gentleman, though, why would he force a match with the sheriff? Mr. Reeve had position, of course, but he was no gentry, not by any stretch. Surely a pretty, malleable girl such as this could have been foisted off on someone of higher class?
But perhaps not. What did Robert know of such things? He was living in an old hunting box, after all.He should not be one to take on airs.
“Thank you, sir,” the girl said softly as the two men helped her. “George… that is, Mr. Muchleigh told me I would be safe here.”
“And you will be,” Robert assured her. “But I assume people will be looking for you?”
She nodded. “I’m sure my parents will be quite worried… and angry.”
“And just who are your parents, Miss?” Robert asked.
The girl glanced up at Much and he put an arm around her for support.
“I’m afraid you know her parents, Rob,” Much said, not quite meeting his eyes.
“Oh?”
The girl gave a weak smile and introduced herself. “I’m Margaret St. John.”
Robert thought he couldn’t have been more surprised than he was when a girl turned up in the wagon. He’d been wrong. He was far more surprised now.
“Meg?By God, I haven’t seen you in years! I never would have recognized you.”
“It’s good to see you, sir. It has been quite some time; since we were children, I believe. Before my cousin went on to live in London.”
Which absolutely explained why he had not seen her in all this time. Naturally their families did not socialize—considering the slander that her father and grandfather had perpetuated on the Locksley name—so the only times he had met Meg were when she was roaming the forest with her hoyden of a cousin. Of course, once Marianne left Nottingham, Meg maintained a more ladylike life. Now, however, hereshe was, back in the forest in entirely unladylike fashion.
