by The Spy
Uh-oh. Phillipa stepped forward and bowed deeply. “But they are not alone at all!” John jerked in surprise and blinked at Phillipa’s sudden appearance. Phillipa ignored him. “Ah, you must be the divine Mrs. Wint. I have heard so much about you that I begged my good friends here to make introduction for me. Did Merrick not tell you of my deep admiration?”
Mrs. Wint melted on the spot. “Why, if it isn’t Mr. Walters! I’ve heard nothing but wonderful things about you this evening. I’ve been most eager to meet you as well. But why out here on this chilly terrace?”
“Oh, but Miss Trapp was most overcome by the excitement of the evening and I thought a bit of air would do her good. John was simply aiding us.” Phillipa stepped closer and gave Mrs. Wint a rueful smile. “You know how silly these young ladies can be. And now I fear I must escort her home and miss my opportunity to have the pleasure of your company.” She bowed again, rising to see the flattered gleam in the older woman’s eyes.
Mrs. Wint smiled, her sour face transformed by the besotted expression now upon it.
Phillipa managed to get the woman back into the ballroom and to shut the door on the four of them at last. Merrick seemed confused, but John Tuttle was darkly furious. He advanced on Phillipa.
“You ruined everything, you bloody little ponce!”
Phillipa faced him squarely, too angry to fear anything at the moment. “You swine. Have you any concept of what a forced marriage would mean to Bitty? Have you no care that you would ruin the rest of her life, taking any chance of her future happiness for your own selfish gain?”
“Stupid chit wants to get married, everybody knows it. What do you care, anyway?”
Phillipa shook her head. “There’s no use explaining anything to you, is there? You’ve no thought past your own childish desires.” She shook her head with disgust. “Get out of here. I’ve done with you both.”
Kitty stepped forward. “Oh, but I am not.”
Merrick stepped back in alarm, and Phillipa didn’t blame him one bit. Kitty was pale with fury, her eyes snapping and her entire frame aquiver.
“You have no idea who you are dealing with, John Tuttle. The Trapp girls need bear no ill actions without reaction.”
“What can you do?” Tuttle snarled. “There’s no man you can tell without ruining your sister and yourself.”
Kitty smiled slowly, a feral little showing of teeth that made Phillipa blink. “Who says I’m going to tell a man? Think you that men are the only ones with power in London? Have you not heard of Lady Etheridge, my own dear aunt? And what of Lady Raines, confidante of the Prince Regent himself?”
Tuttle’s bravado was wearing a bit thin, Phillipa noticed. Could that be a sheen of sweat upon his brow? She stood back, satisfied to watch Kitty flay the fellow in her sister’s defense.
“You’ll be watched, John Tuttle,” Kitty said. “Every ball, every musicale, every drive in the park. We’ll be watching you . . . and we won’t ever stop.”
“Dear me,” murmured Phillipa. “I say, Tuttle, have you considered a tour of the West Indies? I hear the weather is sublime.”
Merrick fumbled for his friend’s sleeve. “John, come. You don’t want to anger them further.”
“Anger who?”
“Them. The women.” Merrick’s voice broke. Phillipa realized the fellow was not quite as thick as he appeared.
Tuttle swallowed as he apparently began to realize precisely what he was up against. Kitty nodded. “All the women, John. The ladies, the daughters, the aunties . . . the sisters. Don’t ever scotch with sisters, Mr. Tuttle. You are not equipped to suffer our wrath.”
“I’ll get you, Kitty Trapp. See if I don’t—”
“Oh, do shut up, Tuttle,” said Phillipa, rolling her eyes. “Get thee gone while you still can. I’ll hold her back as long as I am able,” she added lazily.
Merrick succeeded in pulling Tuttle back into the ballroom. The moment the door shut on the two young men, Phillipa and Kitty turned as one to dash through the other doors to Bitty’s aid.
Bitty sat curled into the corner of the velvet sofa, crying softly in the dark. There was a coal or two left in the grate, enough for Phillipa to light one of the candles on the mantel. She stirred the remaining coals to add a bit of warmth to the room, for Bitty was visibly trembling.
The girl was a sorry sight indeed. Kitty knelt immediately to wrap her arms about her twin, pulling her close to rock her gently and stroke her hair. “Bitty, we’re here now. All is well, darling. All is well.”
Phillipa stood back, allowing Kitty to offer her sister the comfort she needed. The woman within her longed to give comfort as well, but she knew it would not be the same coming from a gentleman, fond of him as one might be.
Not that Kitty wasn’t doing a marvelous job on her own. Phillipa had been wrong to mistake the girls’ competitive bickering for lack of feeling. It was plain now that the bond between the two was deep and strong.
Pity the fellow who mistreated one of the sisters Trapp.
James finally took his leave of the gaming room after having exhausted every avenue of persuasion, along with most of his purse. A fine evening had been had by all the others, with the ladies apparently quite diverted for hours by their new playmate, Phillip.
Despite his frustration, however, he’d had a brilliant idea as the other men had held a rousing debate on sporting subjects. There was a place in London devoted to the very practice that James meant to set Phillip upon. Pugilism. Gentleman Jackson’s gymnasium was devoted to the manly art of bare-knuckle fisticuffs.
Phillip was going to love it. Furthermore, it was precisely what he himself needed. All his hot-and-bother over the redhead was simply a sign of his general frustration. A bit of sweat and violence would take care of it, no doubt.
He collared two young men about Phillip’s age as he left the smoking room. “Ho there. Have you seen Phillip Walters about anywhere? Thin bloke, brown hair?”
One of the fellows turned a curious shade of purple, the other an even more inexplicable shade of white. They mumbled a hurried negative and moved away in a profound hurry.
How peculiar. James watched them go, unease beginning to stir in his gut. Peculiar was never good in his experience. A lady approached him, a heavily wigged dowager who beamed at him with such approval that James nearly looked behind himself to see the object of her affection.
No luck. She was aiming for him all right. He smiled and bowed as she came even with him.
She tittered and held out a much bejeweled hand. “I do hope you’ll forgive my boldness, Mr. Cunnington, but I had to tell you of the very favorable impression your young Mr. Walters has made upon us all this evening.”
James managed to bow again over the lady’s hand. “I thank you for your kind words, Mrs.—”
“Wint, dear. Mrs. Adolphus Wint.”
Wint? As in, “Don’t get caught by the Chill Wint”? The frightening matron who single-handedly held London society in fear of her malicious tongue? Good Lord. Phillip had managed to charm even this stout social warrior? The fellow showed no end of talents.
Frankly, James was beginning to think Phillip was too good to be true. In his experience, no one was that extraordinary without dastardly flaws to match.
“I can take no credit for your praise, Mrs. Wint, but I can say that I am most pleased to have brought Phillip to the attention of such discerning society as yourself.” James glanced up to see the satisfaction on the lady’s face. Excellent. Now to get away.
Fortunately, she gave him the out herself. “I do think young Mr. Walters may need your assistance now, Mr. Cunnington. It seems the young lady he is escorting is overcome by the excitement of the evening.”
“Ah?” Kitty Trapp, overcome? James couldn’t imagine Kitty overcome by anything not bearing claws and teeth. Again . . . peculiar. “Perhaps I might prevail upon you to point me in the direction you last saw Mr. Walters?”
The lady waved her fan toward the balcony doors on the nea
r side of the ballroom. James made his escape.
The balcony proved to be quite empty. Could Phillip have taken Kitty down into the gardens? That feeling of unease twined through him again.
There was only one reason to take a girl into the gardens and Phillip had already proven to be uncommonly appealing to the female population. Could he be so lacking in honor as to use that charm for ill?
Abruptly, James realized that he knew very little about Phillip. The fellow seemed harmless enough, even a bit of a milksop. Yet there was that element of mystery . . .
He turned to lean over the balustrade and call into the garden. “Phillip?” James’s voice carried nicely into the night. “Phillip, are you out there?”
A tiny click sounded behind him. Before he could turn, he felt a hand come down on his shoulder. James spun, breaking the opponent’s grip even as he brought his fist back—
Phillip flinched away from him, throwing his hands up in defense. “Goodness, James! Whatever are you planning on doing with that?”
James let his breath out in a burst of relieved laughter. “Why are you sneaking around out here? Where’s Kitty?”
Phillip only stared at him for a moment. “Shouldn’t you be asking, where’s Bitty?”
Damn. He’d forgotten all about Bitty, so involved he’d been in his mission. “Where is Bitty, then?”
Phillip folded his arms and glared at James. He looked positively angry. James looked past the younger man to the open doorway he’d not noticed before. Kitty Trapp—at least he was fairly sure it was Kitty—stood with her arms crossed as well, glaring at him with equal animosity.
“Where have you been?” Her voice was deadly grim. Oh, yes, Kitty was angry all right. In fact, James thought he’d never seen her so angry.
What was going on here? If both Phillip and Kitty were angry, then—
“Oh, God. Tell me that Bitty’s all right.”
Kitty stepped back from the doorway. James followed her into the dim sitting room. One candle was lit on the mantel and by its light, James could see a tearful Bitty huddling on the sofa as if she were trying to be very small indeed.
He went to his knee in front of the girl. She sniffled once, but wouldn’t look at him. Her hair hung tangled around her face and the bodice of her dress was ripped nearly in half. Even by the dim candlelight, James could see the bruises on her pale arms that marked rough handling indeed.
Fury blazed through him. He stood and turned roughly on Phillip. “What have you done to her?”
Phillip stepped back in reaction and to James’s astonishment let forth a startled laugh. “I?”
Kitty Trapp stepped between them. “James Cunnington, when your sister Agatha gets through with you, you’ll wish you’d never been born!”
“What?” This made no sense. “What did I do? Phillip—”
“Phillip not only rescued Bitty from that bounder, but he saved her reputation as well. Even Mama needn’t find out. You, on the other hand, were nowhere to be found. You were Bitty’s escort this evening. How could you let this happen?”
James flinched from the accusation in her voice. Bitty’s sniffling broke through the confrontation. James returned to her side, offering her his handkerchief. Too little, too late.
“Are you—did he—?”
Bitty shook her head. “No. Phillip came in time. But I was so frightened.”
“Who was it?”
Kitty opened her mouth, but Phillip stopped her. The younger man turned to James. “What would you do about it if you knew?”
James felt rage twist within him. “Call him out. Have him arrested. A public flogging.”
“That would make you feel better, would it?”
“Decidedly.”
“How very nice for you. And what about Bitty? Would having her reputation ruined make her feel better?”
James opened his mouth but stopped. Phillip was quite right. Unfair as it might be, the one who was most stained by such things was always the lady. “So we do nothing?”
Phillip’s jaw worked slowly. “I should very much like to beat him to a quivering pulp.” He looked down at his quite obviously delicate hands. “I can’t.”
“God, no! If the bloke is such an animal, you wouldn’t stand a chance!”
Phillip’s lips twisted. “I thank you for your faith in me.” However, he didn’t seem truly offended.
James took Bitty’s hand in his and pondered it. He turned to her. “Bitty, you are my friend and tonight you are my responsibility. What do you want me to do?”
Bitty dabbed at her nose with the handkerchief. “Well, the quivering-pulp part did sound nice . . .”
“That can be arranged.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “No. If we tell you who, then you’ll do something honorable and annoying and everything will get much worse.”
James sighed. “This is probably true.”
Kitty came to sit on her sister’s other side. “Well, then, we shall continue with our first plan.”
James frowned. This did not sound promising. “What was that?”
Phillip grinned. “Oh, nothing you need to worry about, James. Only . . . don’t ever make Kitty angry.”
James decided that he was better off not knowing. “Only promise me that you will be very careful, Kitty. I wouldn’t want this to happen to you.”
Bitty shook her head. “Not Kitty. She’d never allow herself to be charmed to a deserted balcony. Why, she even carries a knife!”
James blinked at that and turned to look at plump pretty Kitty Trapp. She smiled sweetly back at him, blinking her lashes demurely. In a movement too quick to catch, she produced a narrow silver blade.
Appalled, James recognized a classic move from the repertoire of the inimitable Kurt. “How did you learn that?”
Kitty dimpled and the knife disappeared as quickly as it had come. “Auntie Clara. She gave us both one for our birthday, but Bitty said it wasn’t ladylike.” Her smile disappeared. “Oh, Bitty, I didn’t mean—”
Bitty raised her chin. “No, you’re quite right. One must always strive to be a lady, but I see now that one cannot always depend upon a man to be a gentleman.”
“One most definitely cannot,” Phillip agreed. “Now, we must get the girls home, James. Mrs. Trapp is still in the ballroom. She’s likely mad to know where we’ve all gone off to. Distract her for a few moments. I’ll find our cloaks. Kitty, you have your sister neatened up enough to pass by your mother. I’ll get you two to the carriage and we’ll have Bitty well covered up before your mother joins us. Bitty has taken a chill. Kitty, you’ll volunteer to put her to bed and wait on her for a few days.”
Kitty nodded and even Bitty straightened under such call to action. Phillip turned to James. “Give me ten minutes, then bring Mrs. Trapp along.”
James nodded and accompanied Phillip from the room. As the smaller fellow strode away, it occurred to James that he had just been ordered about by a bloke he could toss with one hand. He shook his head and gave a short laugh. Never let it be said that Phillip lacked the ability to command!
As James made his way through the thinning crowd to find Mrs. Trapp, he recounted Kitty’s story to himself. Phillip had acted quickly and decisively on unfamiliar territory to divert a very unpleasant fate for a girl he barely knew. Clever, quick, and honorable to boot. James was going to have to lengthen that list he was making of Phillip’s qualifying traits.
As far as James could see, Phillip was a Liar born.
Tomorrow would begin his training, whether he knew it or not.
Chapter Fourteen
It was far too early in the morning for surprises. “What is this place?” Phillipa looked about her, fighting off a yawn. They had been out quite late last night with Kitty and Bitty and she would have dearly loved a little lie-in. Breakfast might have been nice, but as she detected the pervading odor of sweat in this otherwise fine hall, she thought twice.
“You’re going to love this, Flip.”
&n
bsp; Phillipa didn’t feel any too sure. James grinned. “Robbie’s going to be entirely plagued off when he finds out where we’ve been. He can’t get enough of Gentleman Jackson’s sports hall.”
Phillipa turned her head, looking this way and that. At that moment, a number of men left a side room and entered the main gymnasium. James raised a hand to greet one of them. “Hello, Bertie. Going up against himself today?”
One of the men turned in response, then approached. Beside James, Phillipa choked. James gave her a startled glance but she only looked away in a fluster.
Bertie stuck out a hand as he came near and gave James’s a good wringing. “Haven’t seen you lately, Cunnington. How’s the shoulder?”
“I’m nearly in top form, Bert. This will be my first day back in the ring for a long while.”
Phillipa was in a panic. The man Bertie was virtually naked, as were all the others now emerging from the side room. They wore only abbreviated drawers that ended above the knee, drawers that did as little to conceal their bodies as James’s had done the night she’d disturbed his bath.
When Bertie reached to shake her hand, she stepped over the edge of panic into hysteria. Stifling a maniacal giggle, she shook the man’s hand as firmly as she could, staring all the while at a point somewhere near his left ear. She nearly yelped when James clapped her on the shoulder.
“Shall we change?”
“Yes, please,” she answered, before she realized that he wasn’t talking about their location. She balked at the door leading to the changing room and peeped around the corner.
Men. Short men, tall men, skinny men, fat men. Men with pale shiny skin and men with skin darkened by the sun. Men with drawers on and—it must be said—men without. Her ears began to pound in shock as one fellow stripped his drawers off in one graceful bend, providing her with an astounding view of his hairy buttocks.
Eeep. She screwed her eyes shut, but it was too late. Those buttocks would live forever in her memory. Yanking her head back through the portal, she whirled to press her back to the wall next to the door.
Hell was a place full of naked smelly men, where a woman who lied had to spend eternity staring at the chandelier.
