Folly's Reward by Jean R. Ewing Page B

series of risqué cartoons featuring the Prince Regent that were framed on the wall. He had not yet learned to read script, so he could not decipher the scurrilous captions. Fortunately, the exaggerated drawings of the bulbous prince and his mistress were only amusing to a small child, so it seemed harmless enough.
    She watched idly as a man rode into the yard on a tall bay horse. The animal was lathered as if it had been pushed too hard. Had the fellow ridden all night over the rough Highland tracks? Prudence hated inn yards for that very reason. The poor long-suffering horses that one saw there, sometimes exhausted or with sores visible beneath the harness, wrung her heart. It was a fact of everyday life, but Prudence felt she would never get used to it.
    Fortunately, this horse did not seem to have been abused. The rider gave the animal a pat as he swung to the ground and strode into the coaching office. But as he passed under the torches, Prudence whirled back from the window as if burned. The man had a long scar across one cheek, and his right eye was covered with an eye-patch.
    The pursuit had already caught up.
    She hurried over to Bobby. She had no clear idea what to do, but they couldn’t sit here in the public parlor like rabbits in a trap.
    “What, already fleeing again?” an amused voice said in her ear. Prudence spun about to look up into Hal’s laughing face. “I have a chaise for you, dear Miss Drake. It awaits in the street, and the driver is hired. The owner would like his payment, then you may be on your way.”
    Now that she knew for sure that Hal wasn’t coming, Prudence felt the most inappropriate dread and regret. Yet he was a complete stranger and a mystery. It was essential to leave him, not least because he had such a knack for disturbing her equilibrium. Nevertheless, the production of the chaise seemed like a miracle.
    “Oh, gracious! This earns my undying gratitude, sir, truly. Thank you. Come on Bobby, Hal has found us a coach.”
    They hurried out to the front of the inn, where a light chaise and pair stood at the curb. A rotund gentleman with white side-whiskers beamed at her.
    “That’s six guineas for the coach and three shillings for the driver, ma’am,” he said.
    Prudence rapidly counted out the coin as Hal organized the transfer of her luggage from the cart. Then she bundled Bobby into the chaise and began to climb in beside him.
    “Please ask the driver to start with all haste,” she said to the white-whiskered gentleman. “I don’t wish to lose a moment.”
    Now that the time had come, she wasn’t sure how to say good-bye to Hal, but the coach’s owner did not realize that this was a sensitive moment.
    “Och aye, ma’am, all’s ready.” The man turned to Hal and began to count coins into his palm. “Here’s your wages, sir, less my commission. Have a good journey and take care of my horses.”
    Prudence put her head out of the window, and saw Hal spring up onto the box to take up the whip.
    “Why, you double-dyed, insolent, unconscionable knave!”
    His voice floated back down to her. “What, Miss Drake, aren’t you going to offer me congratulations? I have just secured honest employment, so that I may hold up my head in society, and you accuse me of being a wastrel? Your driver, dear angel, is at your service.”
    As the horses sprang forward, Prudence pulled down the blind with a thud. How could he? But since the man with the eye-patch was already inside the Cock and Ninepins, this was no time to remonstrate.
    Let Hal drive her to Carlisle if he liked! Then she would lose him once and for all, even if the loss devastated her.
    * * *
    Light, soft and pink. It must be dawn.
    Prudence opened the shade and looked back as Hal drove the chaise steadily up out of the fertile valley of the Clyde. The Campsie Fells and the mountains of Argyle rose up behind the sun-tipped spires of Glasgow. It was clear enough to see the peak of Ben Lomond, washed with rose and