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you.”
    “More fool you,” the highwayman said darkly. “There’s quite a price on your head; I could inform against you.”
    “You could,” she agreed. “I could also inform against you.” Her smile flashed white in the darkness. “I don’t want to be brutal, Jason, but ask yourself who the Runners would be more likely to believe—you or me?”
    Immediately struck by the truth of this question, Jason grinned at her. “You have a point.”
    “Of course.”
    He chuckled softly. “Now that we’ve cleared that out of the way, are we goin’ to sit out here in the damp for the rest of the night?”
    Jenny sighed in resignation. “I don’t suppose it would do any good.”
    “Now you’re being sensible.”
    The two riders turned their horses toward Maidenstone and rode back to the inn. They parted there, and Jason merely nodded when Jenny reminded him to “keep an eye out” for that coach.
    Jenny stabled the black stallion and saddled her own mare for the ride back to the manor. Her vain attempt to discover the coach that Jason had held up caused her to feel deeply depressed, and the long ride back to the manor only increased her depression.
    By the time she was safely back in her bedroom, Jenny desired nothing so much as a hearty bout of tears. But she did not cry. She lay silently in her bed and cheered herself with the thought that tomorrow night she would visit Spencer to return his jewels. On that pleasant thought, she fell asleep.
     
     
    Jenny performed her routine household tasks the next morning, until an odd restlessness drove her to saddle her mare and go for a ride. She could not understand herself; knowing that she had a long ride ahead of her that night, she should not have been restless. Nonetheless, she had to escape from the manor—for a little while at least.
    She wandered rather aimlessly through the woods near the manor, her mind on her coming meeting with Spencer.
    This pleasant occupation of Jenny’s mind was very lucky for Meg—otherwise Jenny would have been far more angry than she was when she came suddenly upon her stepsister locked in a passionate embrace with a blond stranger.
    Jenny reined her mare to a stop and calmly gazed at the red-faced pair. Lifting an eyebrow, she remarked casually, “I am surprised at you, Meg. I really think you could have found a more discreet location for this—assignation. Who is this gentleman?”
    Her calm acceptance of what was definitely a compromising situation deprived Meg of speech for a full minute. Finally, she recovered enough to say weakly, “Jenny, it—it isn’t what you think!”
    “Isn’t it really? Then if it isn’t what I think, Meg, perhaps you had better explain to me what it is . And, I repeat, who is this gentleman?”
    Having by this time regained his composure, Robert stepped forward. “My name is Collins, ma’am—Robert Collins.”
    “How do you do?” she responded politely. “I am Jennifer Courtenay.” With an economy of movement, she slipped from the saddle and tied her horse to a tree. Facing the worried couple, she said pleasantly, “You still haven’t told me what the situation is, Meg.”
    When her stepsister remained silent, Jenny regarded the young gentleman with a measuring eye and remarked outrageously, “There is no need to be afraid of me, you know—I certainly cannot reproach you for your behavior toward Meg. However much you may deserve it, the feat is beyond my capability—you’re too big.”
    Robert blinked at the remarkable young woman and said hastily (for he had the distinct feeling that the feat she spoke of was not beyond her capability), “I assure you, Miss Courtenay, that my intentions toward Meg are strictly honorable.”
    “Are they indeed? And just what are your intentions, Mr. Collins? Or shouldn’t I ask?”
    “I want to marry her.”
    Meg entered the conversation at this point. “I meant to tell you, Jenny, but you’ve been so busy the past few days that I never got the