The Mercenary Major by Kate Moore Page B

parted, and the carriage made its way through and swept past them, giving them only a glimpse of the driver’s angry face.
    Another carriage had pulled up at the line.
    “I think they are charging a toll,” said Victoria.
    This time, as the people parted to let the vehicle pass, the stranger stepped from the crowd and strolled their way.
    Victoria watched him approach.
     
    Jack made his way toward the three people under the oak, quite sure he was being foolish to encounter those gray eyes again, but unable to resist.
    “Brave thing you did, sir,” said the driver, coming up to Jack. “Thanks to you, there’s not a scratch on my rig. Would have been dished, sure, without your help.”
    He was about Jack’s height but with a blaze of red hair and a face still youthfully rounded. Jack guessed the carriage was a new acquisition. He turned to the two girls. The gray eyes were cool and distant. The smaller girl with brown ringlets kept her head down, her hands plucking nervously at her skirts.
    “You’re safe,” said Jack gently. “There’s no danger now.”
    “Capital,” said the driver. “Then maybe I can get my hat back.”
    Jack laughed, and the gray-eyed girl flicked the young man a glance that plainly spoke her opinion of his folly.
    “I’m afraid that would be pressing your luck,” said Jack. “Your hat has been put to good use, however.”
    “Extorting bribes from passersby?” inquired the gray-eyed one.
    “Collecting charitable donations,” said Jack, meeting her cool stare. “Care to contribute to the Fund for the Relief of Harlington’s Poor?”
    “Is that what you did to stop a riot?” she asked.
    “My part was minor. The baker was unwilling to sell at prices these people could pay. A compromise was necessary.”
    “Well, we can contribute, can’t we, Tory,” said the driver, reaching into his jacket pocket. “Then we should get on our way.”
    “But we have to thank you,” said the brunette, unexpectedly looking up, a quick glance, like some timid forest creature.
    “Yes,” said the driver. “Whom may we thank?” He offered Jack his hand.
    Jack stretched out his own hand. “Jack Amberly.”
    The hand extended to meet his fell, and Jack saw shock in the faces of his three new companions. He lowered his hand to his side.
    “Joaquin!” called an excited voice. Jack turned. Another carriage, an open landau, had made it through the barrier and pulled up on the opposite side of the road. An elegant young woman, all in dusty-rose from the silk lining of her charming bonnet to the kid slippers peeking from beneath her hem, was descending from the carriage on the arm of a liveried footman. Her black eyes sparkled with merriment. “Joaquin!”
    “Good day,” Jack said to the three young people still staring silently at him. He bowed to the girl with the gray eyes and strolled off toward the beckoning lady in rose.
    “So that’s the impostor,” said Reg.
     

**** 6 ****
    “O ur cousin,” said Katie.
    “The devil take it,” said Reg. “Can’t ask him to leave Letty’s after he saved my rig.”
    Victoria stared after the pair strolling away under the oaks. Their voices drifted back on the breeze in a foreign tongue, as exotic as the beauty of the dark-haired woman. How intimate they seemed, as if they were alone rather than at the edge of a noisy throng. Victoria, too, had felt momentarily alone with Jack Amberly when his hands touched her waist and his eyes looked into hers. Now the black-eyed beauty took his arm and leaned against him as they walked.
    “Victoria?” asked Katie. “Are you perfectly well?”
    “Yes, of course.” Victoria shook off an odd feeling of being bereft. She supposed this dullness of spirit was a reaction now that the danger had passed.
    “Then what are we to do?” Reg asked.
    “Apologize, thank the man for coming to our rescue, and insist that he leave Letty’s.” Victoria hoped that her voice was as firm and steady as ever.
    “That’s