Other editions of book Lord Tony's Wife

This eBook has been formatted to the highest digital standards and adjusted for readability on all devices.Pierre Adet is a young revolutionary with a death sentence passed on him, whose father is hanged for his son's crime. Seeking the revenge against the Duc de Kernogan, Adet flees to England, becomes Martin-Roget and pursues Duc's daughter Yvonne, who is also a matter of interest of Lord Anthony Dewhurst. Lord Tony must seek the help of The Scarlet Pimpernel to save his loved one.

Lord Antony Dewhurst is ‘a splendid fellow - a fine sportsman, a loyal gentleman’. The young gallant is also Percy’s close friend and a lieutenant in the League. The year is 1793 and in Nantes, France, the hunting of aristocrats goes on. And over in England, the enemy has kidnapped Lord Tony’s wife, Yvonne. It falls to the Scarlet Pimpernel to rescue her.

Lord Antony Dewhurst is ‘a splendid fellow - a fine sportsman, a loyal gentleman’. The young gallant is also Percy’s close friend and a lieutenant in the League. The year is 1793 and in Nantes, France, the hunting of aristocrats goes on. And over in England, the enemy has kidnapped Lord Tony’s wife, Yvonne. It falls to the Scarlet Pimpernel to rescue her.

Silence. Loneliness. Desolation.And the darkness of late afternoon in November, when the fog from the Bristol Channel has laid its pall upon moor and valley and hill: the last grey glimmer of a wintry sunset has faded in the west: earth and sky are wrapped in the gloomy veils of oncoming night. Some little way ahead a tiny light flickers feebly.“Surely we cannot be far now.”“A little more patience, Mounzeer. Twenty minutes and we be there.”“Twenty minutes, mordieu. And I have ridden since the morning. And you tell me it was not far.”“Not far, Mounzeer. But we be not ‘orzemen either of us. We doan’t travel very fast.”“How can I ride fast on this heavy beast? And in this satané mud. My horse is up to his knees in it. And I am wet–ah! wet to my skin in this sacré fog of yours.”The other made no reply. Indeed he seemed little inclined for conversation: his whole attention appeared to be riveted on the business of keeping in his saddle, and holding his horse’s head turned in the direction in which he wished it to go: he was riding a yard or two ahead of his companion, and it did not need any assurance on his part that he was no horseman: he sat very loosely in his saddle, his broad shoulders bent, his head thrust forward, his knees turned out, his hands clinging alternately to the reins and to the pommel with that ludicrous inconsequent gesture peculiar to those who are wholly unaccustomed to horse exercise.

Lord Antony Dewhurst is ‘a splendid fellow - a fine sportsman, a loyal gentleman’. The young gallant is also Percy’s close friend and a lieutenant in the League. The year is 1793 and in Nantes, France, the hunting of aristocrats goes on. And over in England, the enemy has kidnapped Lord Tony’s wife, Yvonne. It falls to the Scarlet Pimpernel to rescue her.

The year is 1789 and Pierre Adet, a young French peasant, is incensed at the unfair treatment of the local peasantry, who are no better off than slaves to the local aristocrat. His brother-in-law is about to be hanged for poaching two pigeons from the woods belonging to the Duc de Kernogan in Nantes and this proves the final straw. After months of planning Pierre leads a mob against the Duc against the advice of his father. Before the mob have had the chance to storm the Chateau, they come across the Duc's young daughter Yvonne returning home and attack her carriage. In the ensuing scuffle, Adet assaults Yvonne …

Lord Tony's Wife is a sequel book to the classic adventure tale, The Scarlet Pimpernel. The year is 1789 and Pierre Adet, a young French peasant, is incensed at the unfair treatment of the local peasantry, who are no more better off than slaves to the local aristo. His brother-in-law is about to be hanged for poaching two pigeons from the woods belonging to the Duc de Kernogan in Nantes and this proves the final straw. After months of planning Pierre leads a mob against the Duc against the advice of his father. Before the mob have had the chance to storm the Chateau, they come across the Duc's daughter Yvonne returning home and attack her carriage. Lord Antony Dewhurst is ‘a splendid fellow - a fine sportsman, a loyal gentleman’. The young gallant is also Percy’s close friend and a lieutenant in the League. The year is 1793 and in Nantes, France, the hunting of aristocrats goes on. And over in England, the enemy has kidnapped Lord Tony’s wife, Yvonne. It falls to the Scarlet Pimpernel to rescue her.

The other made no reply. Indeed he seemed little inclined for conversation: his whole attention appeared to be riveted on the business of keeping in his saddle, and holding his horse's head turned in the direction in which he wished it to go: he was riding a yard or two ahead of his companion, and it did not need any assurance on his part that he was no horseman: he sat very loosely in his saddle, his broad shoulders bent, his head thrust forward, his knees turned out, his hands clinging alternately to the reins and to the pommel with that ludicrous inconsequent gesture peculiar to those who are wholly unaccustomed to horse exercise.

Silence. Loneliness. Desolation.And the darkness of late afternoon in November, when the fog from the Bristol Channel has laid its pall upon moor and valley and hill: the last grey glimmer of a wintry sunset has faded in the west: earth and sky are wrapped in the gloomy veils of oncoming night. Some little way ahead a tiny light flickers feebly.“Surely we cannot be far now.”“A little more patience, Mounzeer. Twenty minutes and we be there.”“Twenty minutes, mordieu. And I have ridden since the morning. And you tell me it was not far.”“Not far, Mounzeer. But we be not ‘orzemen either of us. We doan’t travel very fast.”“How can I ride fast on this heavy beast? And in this satané mud. My horse is up to his knees in it. And I am wet–ah! wet to my skin in this sacré fog of yours.”The other made no reply. Indeed he seemed little inclined for conversation: his whole attention appeared to be riveted on the business of keeping in his saddle, and holding his horse’s head turned in the direction in which he wished it to go: he was riding a yard or two ahead of his companion, and it did not need any assurance on his part that he was no horseman: he sat very loosely in his saddle, his broad shoulders bent, his head thrust forward, his knees turned out, his hands clinging alternately to the reins and to the pommel with that ludicrous inconsequent gesture peculiar to those who are wholly unaccustomed to horse exercise.