Read Folly's Reward for Free Online

inadequate in the face of his easy confidence.
    He grinned. “Well, thank goodness for that! But the real question is: What kind of gentlemen?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “A gentleman may enjoy shooting at his pheasant, or even possibly at his neighbor if they should quarrel, but he’s not generally going to devote himself so exclusively to mayhem with a pistol that he would bother to devote unending hours of practice to it. And that”—he nodded at the target—“speaks to an unhealthy amount of time in a shooting range.” He laughed suddenly. “Perhaps I am a gentleman of the road?”
    Prudence sensed danger as clearly as if he pointed a pistol at her heart.
    “Oh, goodness! You think you are a highwayman?”
    “We can’t be sure, can we? Do you think I am dedicated to a life of crime, angel?”
    “Please, don’t,” Prudence said.
    He looked down at her. “Don’t what?”
    “Don’t call me angel ! It’s silly and inappropriate.”
    He touched her hair lightly where it swept over her ear into her severe bun. It was the briefest, most impersonal of caresses and his hand dropped immediately, but she felt the effect of it shake her to the knees.
    “No, it’s not,” he said gently.
    Prudence colored. “And improper and overly familiar.”
    “Is it? I wouldn’t wish to truly distress you, but a highwayman is used to treating ladies with cavalier gallantry, isn’t he? Didn’t the infamous Claude Du Vall dance a coranto with a lady victim on Hounslow Heath? To the music of her own flageolet, no less.”
    “How could she play if she was dancing?” Prudence asked.
    The blue eyes surveyed her gravely. Yet beneath the seriousness of his expression, laughter bubbled like water boiling below a pan lid.
    “The tale doesn’t say. Perhaps her maid was also proficient at the flute. And then he took her jewels, her husband’s money, and her heart, of course. ‘Du Vall, the ladies’ joy; Du Vall the ladies’ grief’—he ended up in Newgate.”
    Prudence ran one hand firmly over her hair as if to brush away the lingering trace of his hand.
    “A proper end for such a villain.”
    “‘Thither came ladies from all parts / To offer up close prisoners hearts / which he received as tribute due, / And made them yield up—’” Hal stopped and grinned. “Alas, it becomes just a little indelicate, Miss Drake.”
    She could see that he was teasing her. It left her a little lost, but she met the challenge with one of her own.
    “My father was a doctor. I am not naive, nor a shrinking violet. You cannot stop now.”
    He laughed. “‘And made them yield up love and honor, too.’ But only symbolically, we must assume, for the gallant Du Vall would have been in chains. Of course, he could have kissed them—if they cooperated.”
    Prudence hated her betraying high color. He must think her a bluenose. “Unless he could afford a private room off the jailer’s yard?”
    “Either way, he was hanged at Tyburn. Do you suppose I am one of his company, and a wanted man?”
    “I don’t care who you are, sir, as long as you’re not a danger to Bobby and me.”
    Prudence wished fervently that he had never come to Argyleshire and that he would go away soon.
    “Ah! But why should anything or anyone be a danger to you and a five-year-old boy, Miss Drake?”
    Fortunately she did not have to reply. A rattle of wheels echoed up the driveway. Mrs. MacEwen and her maid were returning from town with the shopping. Their gig stopped at the gate. Mrs. MacEwen smiled at Prudence as Mr. MacEwen came up to join them, but there was a genuine worry in her eyes.
    “We have a problem, Mr. MacEwen,” she said. She was avoiding Hal’s gaze. “That report about the ship from France that went down was, by the blessing of Providence, false. Not that I can think it right that our ships should visit France at all. Be that as it may, she was driven north by the storm, but she came into harbor three days ago. Battered and torn, Mr.