Amanda Scott

Amanda Scott by The Bath Eccentric’s Son Page B

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qualms about doing so. Rein in your team.”
    A low growl from the hound at her feet drew Manningford’s attention. “Good lad,” he said. “I will keep him from harming you, Miss Bradbourne, if you will hand that gun to me at once.”
    The pistol moved in Nell’s hand, stopping his hand the instant he began shift his reins to reach for it. “The dog will not harm me, sir. Not, at all events, before I have put a hole in your shoulder or in your thigh. I have not decided which it is to be yet, though I am told that either can be very painful.”
    “Yes, by God, it can,” he retorted. “I have had experience with gunshot wounds, and I have no desire to test your mettle, but how do you know the dog won’t harm you? I don’t even know that he won’t.”
    “Dogs like me,” Nell said simply.
    “He growled.”
    “No doubt because you disturbed him when I startled you with my pistol. He has put his head down again, as you can see.”
    Manningford sighed and began to rein his team to the side of the road. “Very well, but don’t wave that damned thing about. That stage we passed will most likely be along in a few moments, and I’d as lief not have to explain any of this to the driver or to his guard, if he’s got one.”
    “You will take me back to Laura Place.”
    The phaeton drew to a halt. “As to that,” he said, eyeing her pistol, “I should perhaps explain a thing or two to you.”
    “Do not try to make me believe that I ought to go anywhere else with you, sir. I am not such a ninnyhammer.”
    “I never said you were one,” he said, “but the fact is that I have not been precisely factual in my explanation. I am not a marrying man, I fear, nor did I intend to become one.”
    “Goodness,” Nell said, watching him even more narrowly than he watched her, “then you did mean to ravish me.”
    “No, I swear I did not.”
    “Mr. Manningford, it is perfectly plain to me—no, sir, do not move—that my first estimation of your character was the correct one. Your senses are clearly disordered. No doubt your family has persons out scouring the countryside to find you, to place you under restraint. I will thus be doing them a favor by restoring you to their loving bosom, to be well cared for.”
    “Well, there you’re out, my girl, there is no loving bosom. My siblings all have families of their own, and my father is a damned odd fellow whom I’ve only just met and don’t care if I never see again.”
    “Only just met?” A memory stirred in her mind.
    “Yes, but don’t let that distress you. And hide that popgun of yours. Here comes the stage.”
    Obediently, Nell slipped the pistol under her skirt until the stage had passed, feeling no urge to draw the attention of passengers or driver. Manningford waved, then heaved a sigh of relief when no one showed any particular interest in them.
    “Look,” he said when the dust had settled, “I ought never to have mentioned marriage. I never meant any such thing.”
    “So now you would cry off, would you,” Nell said with a chuckle. But then, when he looked truly horrified, she added hastily, “What had my being an heiress to do with it then?”
    He still watched her narrowly. “Only that a friend of mine laid me a wager, saying I couldn’t abduct you.”
    “I see. I must tell you, sir, that I do not approve of idiotish wagers. You ought to have told him you would not.”
    “I did. In point of fact, I said I’d be damned if I would do any such thing.”
    “Very proper. So then, why?”
    “Circumstances changed. I require a certain amount of money to see me through to quarter-day. I asked my esteemed father for it, but instead of complying with my request, he chose to treat me as though I were a marionette to which he held the strings, so here I am.”
    “But you might ask someone else to lend you the money instead, might you not?”
    “Is that an offer?” He grinned at her. “I thank you, but I have never in my life borrowed money from a

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