The Fleeing Heiress: A funny flight into love.

The Fleeing Heiress: A funny flight into love. by Gayle Buck Page B

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Authors: Gayle Buck
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frown. He still held the pis tol leveled in Lord Cardiff’s direction and the firearm swayed gently back and forth with the movement of the carriage.
    Under his eyelids, Cardiff regarded the young man’s grasp on the pistol. He wondered idly how long it would be before Philip’s fingers cramped. It was something to think about, for it could be advantageous to himself. It might be possible to wrest the pistol away from Philip when his hold became less certain.
    There fell another silence while Thomas meditated some more. “I tell you what, Philip, I don’t care for the notion at all,” he said suddenly.
    Philip was drawn out of his brown study by his brother’s unusual solemnity. “What don’t you like?”
    “I don’t like the notion of hanging.” Thomas put a hand up to his throat and ran one wide finger under the edge of his linen cravat as though it had become tight. “It isn’t a comforting thought.”
    “Shut up!” said Philip. He glared at his brother.
    “Well, it will only be what you both deserve,” said Thea waspishly, entering the fray. “How could you do such an outrageous thing? Kidnapping! Of all the harebrained, idi otic starts!” Her voice momentarily deserted her and she could only shake her head at the thought of her brother’s stu pidity.
    Philip’s mouth compressed to a thin line. His expression was furious as he shot a look of dislike at his sister.
    Thea stared back defiantly. “You may look as black as you wish, Philip. I shan’t regard it, I assure you!”
    Philip jerked a shoulder and turned his head, pointedly ignoring her.
    “Do you truly believe we shall hang, my lord?” asked Thomas anxiously, appealing to Lord Cardiff.
    Cardiff did not have the chance to reply before Thea once more interjected. “Lord Cardiff is a peer of the realm. Doubtless he has scores of influential relations in high places, all of whom will clamor for your heads. You will be fortunate if you are not drawn and quartered,” said Thea roundly.
    Thomas looked a bit green, and even Philip appeared to lose a little of his former assurance. Their obvious dismay served to rouse Cardiff’s unfortunate sense of humor.
    “Actually, I have only one truly influential relation,” he said suavely. “My father is a duke and is known to have a bit of influence at Whitehall.”
    All three of the Staffords stared at him with varying de grees of alarm and consternation. He controlled the smile that almost quivered to life on his lips, saying apologetically, “I just thought I should mention it.”
    “There you are! You are patently doomed,” declared Thea. She was immensely satisfied that she had been proven right. She had known all along that Lord Cardiff was a personage of importance.
    “It does look black for us, Philip,” said Thomas gloomily.
    “I must think,” said Philip, gnawing at his underlip in a nervous fashion.
    “Whatever is there to think about?” exclaimed Thea. She could not believe how dense they still were. “You must let Cardiff free at once and beg for his lordship’s mercy.”
    “That is sound advice, gentlemen,” drawled Cardiff. He shifted, making himself more comfortable against the seat squabs, and stretched out his long legs.
    The situation was peculiar, to say the least, and there was a danger that his two kidnappers were too stupid to realize fully the extent of their folly. However, he was inclined to view matters with equanimity rather than otherwise. Miss Stafford seemed an able enough advocate in the sowing of doubt into her brothers’ minds as to the wisdom of their ill- conceived actions. A few more minutes of her withering tongue and he rather thought the matter would be resolved.
    Lord, but she was spirited, he thought with admiration, glancing in Miss Stafford’s direction. Despite the hurly- burly fashion in which she had been thrust into the carriage and her obvious distress over the situation, the scorn in her eyes and her bolt-upright posture showed her to

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