The Black Moth by Georgette Heyer (best mobile ebook reader TXT) 📕

you?” she coaxed, laying a persuasive hand on his shoulder.

He smiled up at her.

“‘Tis just an inquisitive puss you are!”

Again the pout.

“And ye should not pout your pretty lips at me if ye are not wanting me to kiss them!” he added, suiting the action to the word.

“But of course I do!” cried my lady, returning the kiss with fervour. “Nay, Miles, tell me.”

“I see ye mean to have the whole tale out of me, so—”

“To be sure I do!” she nodded.

He laid a warning finger on her lips and summoned up a mighty frown.

“Now will ye be done interrupting, me lady?”

Not a whit abashed, she bit the finger, pushed it away, and folding her hands in her lap, cast her eyes meekly heavenwards.

With a twinkle in his own eyes the Irishman continued:

“Well, alanna, ye must know that yesterday evening I was at Kilroy’s on a matter of business—and that reminds me, Molly, we had a hand or two at faro and the like before I left, and I had very distressing luck—”

On a sudden my lady’s demure air vanished.

“Is that so, Miles? I make no doubt the stakes were prodigious high? Pray, how much have you lost?”

“Whisht, darlin’, ‘tis a mere thrifle, I assure you… . Well, as I was saying, on me way home, what should happen but that we be held up by one of these highwaymen—”

My lady’s eyes widened in horror, and two little hands clutched at his coat.

“Oh, Miles!”

His arm tightened round her waist.

“Sure, asthore, I’m still alive to tell the tale, though ‘tis not far I’ll be getting with you interrupting at every moment!”

“But, Miles, how terrible! You might have been killed! And you never told me! ‘Twas monstrous wicked of you, darling!”

“Faith, Molly, how should I be telling you when ‘twas yourself that was fast asleep? Now will you whisht?”

She nodded obediently, and dimpled.

“Well, as I say, here was this man standing in the road, pointing his pistol at me. But will ye believe me, me love, when I tell you that that same pistol was as empty as—my own?” Here he was shaken with laughter. “Lud, Molly, ‘twas the drollest thing! I had me pistol in me hand, knowing ‘twas unloaded, and wondering what the devil, saving your presence, was to do next, when the idea struck me that I should try to bluff me fine sir. So I cried out that his pistol was unloaded, and completely took him by surprise! Sure he hadn’t time to ask himself how the devil I should be knowing that! He dropped it on the road. Afther—”

“Miles, you are becoming very Irish!”

“Never say so, alanna. After that ‘twas simple enough, and me lord gave in. He held out his hands for me to bind—and here’s where ‘tis puzzling, Molly—I saw that they were a prodigious sight too white and fine for an ordinary highwayman. So I taxed him with it—”

“‘Twas a gentleman in disguise! How splendid, Miles!”

“Will ye hold your tongue, asthore, and not be spoiling me story on me?”

“Oh, indeed I am sorry! I will be good!”

“—and he started and seemed monstrous put out. What’s more, me dear, I heard him speak to his mare in an ordinary, gentleman’s voice. Molly, ye never saw the like of that same mare! The sweetest—”

“Pray, never mind the mare, dear! I am all agog to hear about the gentleman-highwayman!”

“Very well, me love, though ‘twas a prodigious fine mare—When I heard him speak, it flashed across me brain that I knew him—no, ye don’t, Molly!” His hand was over her mouth as he spoke, and her eyes danced madly. “But I could not for the life of me think where I had heard that voice: ‘twas but the one word I heard him speak, ye understand, and when I held his wrists I felt that ‘twas no stranger. And yet ‘tis impossible. When I got him within the coach—”

“How imprudent! He might have—”

“Whisht now! When I got him within the coach I tried to worm his identity out of him, but ‘twas to no avail. But when I told him he would have to appear before me to-day, he went off into a fit of laughing, till I wondered what he was at, at all. And not another word could I get out of him after beyond ‘Yes, sir,’ and ‘No, sir.’ Still, I felt that ‘twas a gentleman all the same, so I—”

He was enveloped in a rapturous embrace.

“You dear Miles! You let him escape?”

“Sure, alanna, is it meself that would be doing the like? And me a Justice of the Peace withal? I told them not to handcuff me lord.”

“Oh, I do so wish you had let him escape! But if ‘tis really a gentleman, you will?”

“I will not then, asthore. I’ll be sending him to await the Assizes.”

“You are very cruel, then.”

“But, me darlin’—”

“And I wish to get off your knee.”

He drew her close.

“I’ll see what can be done for your protégé, Molly. But don’t be forgetting he tried to kill the only husband you have!” He watched the effect of this with that humorous twinkle in his eye. But my lady was not to be put off.

“With an empty pistol? Fie on you, Miles! And may I hide behind the screen while you question him?”

“Ye may not.”

“But I wish so much to see him!”

O’Hara shook his head with an air of finality she knew full well. However easy-going and good-natured her husband might be, there were times when he was impervious to all blandishments. So after darkly hinting that she would be nearer than he imagined, she gave up the contest to go and visit young Master David in his nursery.

*

For some time in lock-up Carstares had cudgelled his brain to think out a possible mode of escape next day, but try as he might he could light on nothing. If only Miles were not to question him! It was hardly likely that he would be allowed to retain his mask, yet therein lay his only chance of preserving his incognito. He prayed that by some merciful providence O’Hara would either fail to recognise him or would at least pretend that he did not. Having decided that there was nothing further to be done in the matter he lay down on his extremely hard pallet, and went to sleep as if he had not a care in the world.

Next morning, after a long and wordy argument with the head gaoler on the subject of masks, he was haled in triumph to the house.

As the little cavalcade was about to ascend the steps that led to the front door, my Lady O’Hara came gaily forth carrying a basket and a pair of scissors, and singing a snatch of song. At the sight of the highwayman the song broke off and her red lips formed a long-drawn “Oh!” She stood quite still on the top step, gazing down at my lord. The two gaolers stood aside to allow her to come down, just as a greyhound darted up the steps and flung itself against her in an exuberance of joy. My lady, none too securely balanced, reeled; the basket fell from her arm, her foot missed the next step, and she tumbled headlong down. But in the flash of an eyelid Carstares had sprung forward and received her in his arms. He lowered her gently to the ground. “I trust you are not hurt, madam?” he asked, and retrieved her basket, handing it to her.

Molly took it with a smile.

“I thank you sir, not at all; though I fear I should have injured myself quite considerably had you not been so swift in catching me. ‘Twas most kind of you, I am sure!” She extended her small hand, and her eyes devoured him.

For a moment my lord hesitated, and then, sweeping off his hat, he bowed low over the hand.

“‘Twas less than nothing, madam,” he said in his own cultivated voice. “I beg you will dismiss it from your mind.” He straightened himself as the gaolers came forward, and put on his hat again.

Lady O’Hara stepped aside and watched them disappear into the house. Her cheeks were rather flushed, and her eyes suspiciously bright. Suddenly she nodded her head decisively, and throwing away her luckless basket, hurried across the lawn and entered the house through a long window.

My lord was conducted to the library, where O’Hara sat awaiting him, and slouched forward with his hands thrust deep into his pockets and his hat still on his head.

The head gaoler eyed him gloomily, and looked pained when Carstares with studied boorishness leaned carelessly against a fine carved table.

“We ‘ave refrained from ‘andcuffin’ pris’ner, sir, at your horders,” he said, in a tone that warned O’Hara that should harm come of it, on his head be the blame.

Miles nodded.

“Quite right,” he said pleasantly, and glanced at the cloaked and masked figure before him with more suspicion than ever.

“But I regrets to ‘ave to report very hobstinate be’aviour on part of pris’ner, sir,” added the gaoler impressively.

“Indeed?” said Miles gravely. “How so?”

Jack controlled an insane desire to laugh, and listened to the gaoler’s complaint.

“You see the pris’ner, sir, with that great mask on ‘is face? Afore we set out to come ‘ere, I told ‘im to take it hoff. And ‘e refoosed, sir. Seeing as ‘ow you gave no horders, I did not force ‘im to hobey.”

“Ah! … Your name, please?”

“John Smith, sir,” answered Carstares promptly and hoarsely.

O’Hara wrote it down with a sceptical smile on his lips that Jack did not quite like.

“Perhaps ye will have the goodness to unmask?”

There was a momentary silence.

“Why, sir, I thought ye might allow me to keep it on?”

“Did ye now? I will not be allowing any such thing.”

“But, sir—”

“‘Tis impossible. Off with it!”

“Sir—”

“If ye don’t take it off, I shall ask these men to assist ye,” warned Miles.

“May I not speak with ye alone, sir?” pleaded Jack.

By now O’Hara was greatly intrigued.

“Ye may not. Unmask!” He was leaning half across the table, his eyes fixed on Jack’s face.

With a quaint little laugh that made O’Hara’s brows contract swiftly, my lord shrugged his shoulders French fashion and obeyed. The mask and hat were tossed lightly on to the table, and Miles found himself gazing into a pair of blue eyes that met his half defiantly, half imploringly. He drew in his breath sharply and the thin ivory rule he held snapped suddenly between his fingers. And at that crucial moment a door behind him that had stood ajar was pushed open, and my Lady O’Hara came tripping into the room.

The two gaolers and her husband turned at once to see who it was, while Jack, who had recognised her, but had not the least idea who she was, fell to dusting his boots with his handkerchief.

O’Hara rose, and for once looked severe.

“What—” he began, and stopped, for without so much as a glance at him, my lady ran towards the prisoner, crying:

“Harry! Oh, Harry!”

Jack gathered that he was the person addressed, and instantly made her an elaborate leg.

The next moment she was tugging at the lapels of his coat, with her face upturned to his.

“Harry, you WICKED boy!” she cried, and added beneath her breath: “My name is Molly!”

A laugh sprang to my lord’s eyes and his beautiful smile appeared.

In a stupefied fashion O’Hara watched him steal an arm about her waist, and place a hand