The flutters of panic began to ease from her stomach. Not that she was any less worried. It was just that she began to understand what was prompting her father’s foolhardy behavior.
Beneath his hardened exterior was a tender heart and fierce need to protect those weaker than himself. It was a gallantry that marked him as a gentleman far more than any empty title or grand estate.
“And so you have taken upon yourself to play the role of Robin Hood?”
He tried to shrug only to wince in pain. “In a manner of speaking.”
“And I suppose that Foster is your Friar John, and Mrs. Stone and Talbot your Band of Merry Men?”
A grudging smile touched his lips. “They are aware of my secret identity, but I do not ask that they take a hand in any of my nefarious business. I would never allow them to risk themselves in such a fashion.”
“But you are quite willing to risk yourself?” she demanded in fond exasperation.
“There is no risk, I assure you, pet.”
She deliberately turned her attention to his wounded shoulder, her brows lifting.
“Oh, no. No risk at all.”
He at least possessed the grace to redden at his ridiculous claim. “Well, there is usually no great risk. Last night was a clumsy mishap. One that I have no intention of repeating.”
“On that we agree.” She lifted his hand to press his fingers to her cheeks. “I admire what you are attempting to do, Father, I truly do, but it is far too dangerous. You could have been captured, or even killed, last eve.”
“Nonsense,” he said gruffly. “It is a scratch, nothing more. And I can promise I will never again underestimate our new magistrate. He is a clever blighter who seems to possess an uncanny ability to be where he is least wanted. He will not sneak up on me again. From now on I intend to be the predator, not the prey in our little game.”
Raine dropped her father’s hand as she took a step backward. “Good God, this is not a game, Father.”
“Of course it is.” His eyes glittered with what might have been…pleasure. As if he actually enjoyed his nefarious role as the Knave of Knightsbridge. “A game of wits that has kept me well occupied and, more important, has provided our neighbors with food and a roof over their heads. They have no one else to depend upon, Raine. Would you have me abandon them, as well?”
“Of course not,” she denied.
Although she had lived in France for the past seven years, this tiny community would always be her home. How could she ever stand aside and see them suffering without doing whatever possible to assist? And in truth, she could not deny a fierce pride in her father’s brave quest to save them from ruin.
Still, she also could not deny a lingering fear for her father. She had already lost her mother. She could not bear to lose him, as well. He would have to take far greater care if he were to continue his dangerous charade.
Parting her lips to demand his promise that he would not take foolish risks, Raine was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of hoofbeats. She hurried to the window and watched the rider approaching, her heart lodged in her throat.
“Dear heavens.”
Her father struggled to sit forward. “Who is it?”
She slowly turned, her eyes wide. “It is the magistrate.”
CHAPTER TWO
“BLOODY HELL.” WITH A PAINFUL effort Josiah struggled with the heavy covers that were wrapped about him. “Call for Foster and tell him to put the man off until I can get dressed.”
“Dressed?” Raine crossed to the bed and firmly pushed her father back into the pillows. It was a testament of his weakened state that he gave up the fight with no more than a low groan. “Have you taken leave of your senses? You are not leaving this bed.”
Her father’s lean features hardened with frustration. “I must. The magistrate is already suspicious.”
“So, let him be suspicious.”
“Raine, if he discovers that I am injured he will have me hauled off in chains.”
Raine pressed her hands to her knotted stomach. No. Now was not the moment to panic. Not when her father’s life hung in the balance.
“Do not fear, Father.” She squared her shoulders. “I will deal with the magistrate.”
“Raine, no. I do not want you involved in this.”
She smiled wryly. “I am already involved, Father. Besides, you are in no condition to stop me. Remain quiet and I will return as soon as I can.”
“Raine, I beg of you, do not do this.”
Ignoring Josiah’s agonized plea, Raine headed firmly toward the door. Her father was willing to risk everything to do what he thought was right.
How could she possibly do any less?
TOM HARPER WAS NOT a modest man.-
Although he had been born the son of a vicar who had little to offer his ambitious child, Tom had benefited from a formal education and introduction to gentlemanly manners. When combined with his own natural intelligence and an unwavering drive to succeed, he was assured a comfortable existence.
Comfortable, however, was not enough to satisfy his restless heart. He had traveled to London with every expectation of making a name for himself in the Home Office, and eventually earning himself a seat in the House of Commons.
The fact that it had proved much more difficult than he had anticipated had not dampened his determination. It had, however, made him realize he would have to do something to capture the attention of his superiors.
Which was, of course, the reason he had leapt at the opportunity to become a magistrate in this secluded village.
And why he was standing in the drawing room of the comfortable cottage awaiting the arrival of Josiah Wimbourne.
Hearing the sound of approaching footsteps, he politely turned and smoothed his hands over the material of his plain blue coat. He was careful to dress with a somber simplicity that suited his lean body and pleasant features. It revealed he was a man of means without presuming to rise above his station.
The door opened and Tom battled a flare of surprise as a small blond-haired angel slipped into the room.
He had seen Miss Wimbourne in the village, of course. She could not step foot on High Street without every male in the vicinity dropping whatever he was doing and rushing to catch a glimpse of her.
Even himself.
Not that he would ever expect to capture such an exquisite morsel, he thought ruefully. But he was man enough to enjoy the fantasy.
Moving forward with an innate grace, Miss Wimbourne offered a warm smile that seemed to add a glow to the shabby room. It was odd that the powerful and rich so often tended to have children that were pale and unremarkable, while the rogues of the world could father offspring that possessed such vibrant beauty.
No doubt that was the reason the ton was so careful to exclude the riffraff from their society. What insipid debutante could possibly hope to compare with this woman?
Halting directly before him, Miss Wimbourne performed a small curtsy.
“Mr. Harper, what a pleasant surprise.”
Tom bowed, his mind rapidly adjusting to this unexpected encounter.
He didn’t believe for a moment it was mere happenstance that brought this young maiden to the drawing room.
“Miss Wimbourne, I hope I do not disturb you?” he murmured.
“Not