by Candace Camp
“Get up, you lazy good-for-nothing!” he cried, lifting his whip and bringing it down on the horse’s back. “Get up, or it’s off to the knacker’s for you!”
The horse shuddered at the whip and struggled vainly to stand, but it could not. Charity and her sisters came to an abrupt halt at the scene, staring in shocked horror.
The man raised his whip again, and Charity cried out, “No! Stop that!”
The carter turned his head and gave the group of girls a cursory glance. “Go on,” he said roughly. “It’s no business of yours.”
He turned back and lashed the horse again. Charity dropped Lucky’s makeshift leash and darted out into the street. She grabbed the whip from the startled man’s hand as he raised it again.
“Stop it, you brute!” Her eyes blazing with fury. “Leave that poor animal alone. Can’t you see that there is something wrong with him? He’s worked his heart out for you, and you repay him this way?”
“Charity!” Serena called worriedly, and Elspeth glanced around them, mortified to see that a crowd was quickly gathering around the scene.
“Now, see here, missy,” the man spat out, stalking purposefully toward Charity. “This ain’t no concern of yours. You get out of here, or I’ll—”
Whatever he might have threatened was lost, for at that moment Lucky launched himself at the man with a growl, protecting his newfound mistress. The dog hit the carter full in the chest with all his weight, and the man staggered backward. He caught his heel on an uneven stone and fell heavily. A ripple of amusement ran through the crowd.
The carter’s face turned bright red with anger, and he struggled to his feet, cursing. Lucky positioned himself between Charity and the man and growled, his head lowered and the fur on his neck standing up. The man bent to pick up a rock, his eyes remaining on Lucky. He pulled back his arm to throw it at the dog, and Charity lashed out with the whip, striking the carter on the arm with enough force to sting and make him drop the rock.
He gaped at Charity, clutching his hurt arm. Charity waited, the whip ready in her hand, Lucky still standing guard between them.
“You little bitch!” the carter raged, in frustration and pain. “You just wait till I get hold of you, and both you and that bloody hound of yours will be sorry you ever crossed Dan McConnigle.” He launched into a series of invectives so harsh that many in the crowd around them gasped.
Fortunately, Charity and her sisters knew few of the words he hurled at her. They did, however, recognize the anger and threat in his voice, and her sisters moved protectively up beside her. All around them the crowd was growing and choosing up sides, calling out words of derision or encouragement.
Charity gripped the whip and faced the man down. She didn’t know what she was going to do, but she wasn’t about to back down before this bully.
It was with some relief that she saw out of the corner of her eye a man in a blue uniform shoving his way through the watchers until finally he burst through.
“Now, what’s going on here?” the bobby demanded, straightening his hat and glaring from the carter to Charity and her sisters and back.
“Constable!” Serena exclaimed with relief.
“This wench took my whip and hit me with it!” the carter cried, pointing at Charity.
Charity looked at him disdainfully. “Yes, I did,” she said, dropping the whip on the ground. “This man is a brute. He was whipping his horse, and anyone can see that the poor animal could go no more.”
The constable looked from Charity to the carter, and a faint smile twitched at his lips. “Did she now? Well, I can see how a lass like that could overpower you.”
The carter flushed. “It wasn’t only her. That brute attacked me, too.” He pointed toward the dog.
“Lucky is not a brute!” Charity answered hotly. “He didn’t even bite you. He merely came to my defense when you threatened me.”
“I never touched her!” The carter swung back toward the constable, appealing to him. “The girl is mad. She attacked me with no reason. Interfering in my business—telling me what I should and should not do. Hasn’t an honest businessman any rights anymore? This girl is running loose with a vicious dog, creating a disturbance. She’s probably escaped from Bedlam.”
“What?” Charity drew an indignant breath, her eyes flashing fire. “How dare you?”
“Here, now, miss.” The constable ran a disapproving eye over Charity, and she realized suddenly at how much of a disadvantage she must appear. She and her sisters were dressed in old clothes, and after her romping about with the dog, her skirts were covered with mud and grass stains, and her hair was straggling out of its knot. She must indeed look like a wild woman.
“You can’t be running about the streets, now, interfering with people’s business,” the constable went on. “I think you’d best go along home.”
“You mean you aren’t even going to do anything to him?” Charity gasped.
“To me? It’s you he ought to be taking in.” The carter, more confident now that the constable seemed to be leaning toward his side, turned toward the policeman and made his appeal. “Sir, she lost me time, and she took my whip from me. And that vicious animal of hers attacked me. Are you just going to let her go?”
“There’s no harm in the lass,” the constable said. “I don’t see no need to be taking her in.”
“I should say not!” Serena exclaimed, and all the sisters began to babble at once. Across from them, the carter argued that damage had been done to him, and various members of the crowd around them chimed in with their opinions.
The constable looked pained. He glanced around at the crowd. Already two men were arguing about which side of the argument was right. It wouldn’t take much for a scene like this to develop into something more.
“All right, all right, miss.” The constable reached out for Charity. “Why don’t you just bring your dog, and let’s sort this all out back at headquarters?”
Charity twitched her arm from him and drew herself up into the most commanding stance she could. She lifted her chin and looked down her nose at the man in the best imitation she could manage of her mother, and said, “Do you think to lay a hand on me? Do you intend to arrest the Countess of Dure?”
The constable froze, his mouth dropping open, and for a moment there was a great silence around them. Then someone in the crowd began to laugh.
“To be sure,” the carter said bitingly. “Anyone can see that you are a countess. I told you, Constable—Bedlam.” He tapped his forehead significantly.
“I am a countess!” Charity protested. “Or, at least, I will be soon. I am engaged to be married to the Earl of Dure.”
The constable’s eyes ran down her clothes and then to the muddied mongrel at her side. He sighed. “Miss…you’re only making it worse for yourself by making such claims. I better take you back and send for your family to come get you.”
Charity felt panicky. She could well imagine her mother’s reaction to having to come down to Scotland Yard to fetch her daughters. And Dure—if word got out that she had been arrested, he would be a laughingstock.
She jutted her chin out and stepped forward. “I suggest that we go to Lord Dure’s first. I doubt Lord Dure or my aunt, Lady Bankwell, will be particularly pleased at finding me incarcerated. If you value your job, I suggest you investigate my story before you lay hands on me.”
The constable wavered. Her carriage and voice were those of a well-brought-up young lady, and there was a certain aristocratic set to her face when she looked at him the way she was now. Lord knew, the nobility had their eccentricities…. What if this was a future countess and only liked to amuse herself by running about the city all ragtag and muddy, with a great cur by her side?
He glanced around, frowning. “But we can’t go disturbing His Lordship to ask him who you are.”
“I should think it would be far preferable to his having to come down to your headquarters to rescue me,” Charity retorted.
Behind her
, Elspeth groaned. Serena came up to stand beside her. Calmly, she said, “She truly is engaged to His Lordship.”
“He dotes on her,” Horatia piped up helpfully.
“Come, take me there. It isn’t far from here. In Arlington Street.”
Her insistence on going to see the Earl of Dure shook the constable’s confidence. Finally he said, “All right, missy. But no tricks now.”
He moved to take her arm, but Charity quelled him with a look and started to walk regally through the crowd. The constable marched along at her side, and the carter and Charity’s sisters fell in behind them. Even several members of the crowd trailed after them, intrigued by the drama.
Charity strode confidently to Dure House, keeping her face set in a cool, disdainful mask, but inside, her heart quailed a little. What would Dure say?
It did not take long to reach the door of Dure House. Charity turned and looked at the constable with a great deal more assurance than she felt. “Here we are.”
The constable hesitated, gazing up at the imposing edifice. All the way over, he had grown less and less sure that he was doing the right thing. Questioning an earl was not something that fell into his normal line of duties. He had a mortifying picture of the Earl throwing him out for bothering him with such idiocy. He glanced over at Charity nervously.
“Well? Aren’t you going to knock?” she asked.
“Yes, miss.” He straightened, tugging at his collar a little, and rapped the bronze knocker on the door.
A moment later the door opened soundlessly, and a grave butler appeared in the doorway. The butler looked at the constable blankly, then at the carter and the straggling procession behind him.
“Yes?” he inquired freezingly.
The constable cleared his throat. “I’m here on a matter, uh, er, concerning the earl of Dure. Ah, this is his residence, isn’t it?”
“Of course.” The butler looked at him as if he were half-witted.
“Well, the thing is, there’s a girl here, who, uh…”
“Chaney—” Charity stepped forward beside the constable “—could you tell His Lordship that we are here to see him?”
For the first time, the butler’s eyes went to Charity. He looked at her blankly for a moment. Then his mouth dropped open. He stared at her, then down at the dog, over at the constable and back to her again.
“Miss Emerson!”
“Yes, Chaney, it is I. There seems to be some problem as to my identity. My sisters and I required Lord Dure’s help.”
“Yes, miss.” The butler pulled his face back into its customary haughty lines and stepped back from the door.
Charity swept into the entry hall, Lucky trotting happily at her side, and the constable stepped aside to let her sisters follow her. He motioned to the carter, who no longer looked so bellicose, to enter, also, then followed him inside. Chaney neatly closed the door on the stragglers.
He swept a look over the group, obviously trying to decide where he should put such a motley crew. The Misses Emerson, of course, belonged in the drawing room by rights, no matter how ragtag they looked, but the constable and the other, rough-looking individual most assuredly did not. He considered leaving the men in the entry and leading the sisters to the salon, but another look at Charity’s stained dress and the muddy mongrel that stuck to her side decided him against that. With a bow, he went to find Lord Dure and put the matter squarely in his hands, where it belonged.
Charity could not resist shooting a triumphant look toward the constable and the carter, who both shifted uncomfortably and glanced around the spacious entry and the wide, graceful marble stairway up which the butler had disappeared.
A few moments later Simon came down the stairs. He wore a sumptuous dark brocade dressing gown over his trousers and spotless white shirt, and it was obvious that he had been disturbed while dressing or at his breakfast. He paused at the bottom of the stairs and coolly looked over each member of the group before him. The constable colored under his gaze and tugged at his collar.
Simon’s eyes stopped at last on Charity.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“MY DEAR MISS EMERSON,” Dure said finally, “how delightful to see you. You must forgive my surprise, but, as always, the sight of you—” his lips twitched, but he quickly controlled them “—uh, has quite taken my breath away. I see you have brought your sisters, as well. But who are these gentlemen? I don’t believe I have had the pleasure of their acquaintance.”
“Dure!” Charity let out a gusty sigh of relief and hurried toward him. “You must tell this constable who I am. They don’t believe that I am your fiancée. He said I belonged in Bedlam—the carter, I mean—and the constable said he should take me in and find out who I belonged to. So I had to tell them that we were engaged.”
“Of course,” Simon replied imperturbably. His eyes fell to the animal at her side. “And who is your friend?”
“That’s Lucky. We found him in the park, and we couldn’t leave him.”
“Of course not,” Simon murmured, gazing at the dog with a fascinated eye. “He might have got dirty.”
Charity giggled. “Oh, stop. This is serious.”
“I can see that. Serious enough for a constable.” His gaze rested ironically on that gentleman. The man glanced around, as if some means of escape might materialize. “Now, suppose you tell me what this animal has to do with these two gentlemen.”
Charity proceeded to lay out for him the pitiful plight of the horse and the wickedness of its owner. Dure listened, his gray-green eyes glinting with amusement, as Charity explained how she and her sisters had felt compelled to stop such cruelty, and how Lucky had bravely defended her.
“Then,” she ended indignantly, “he was going to throw a rock at Lucky, so I had to hit his arm with the whip.”
“You lashed him with the whip?” Dure asked, his eyebrows vaulting upward, and when Charity nodded yes, he let out a crack of laughter. “By God, I wish I had been there to see that!”
But the face he turned on the carter was anything but amused. “And you,” he said with icy contempt, “having been bested by a slip of a girl and a mangy dog, had to call the constable to defend you.”
The carter, who had been squirming throughout Charity’s account, turned beet red at Dure’s words. “They was interfering with me job! Poking their noses in where they didn’t belong. What else was I supposed to do? Just let her ruin me business? I couldn’t very well settle the matter with me fists, seeing as how she was a lady and all.”
“A lady with a whip and a loyal dog,” Dure amended. “I can understand your hesitation.”
The carter thrust out a mutinous jaw but subsided into silence, crossing his arms over his chest and curling up into himself.
Serena spoke up firmly. “He would would have hit her. He was obviously threatening to. When Lucky stood him off, he called Charity terrible, vile names.”
“Did he, now?” Dure’s eyes flicked coldly over the hapless carter. “Exactly what, sir, did you say about my fiancée?”
“Nothing,” the man retorted in a surly manner, not looking at Dure.
“You are saying that my fiancée’s sister is a liar?”
“No,” the carter mumbled.
Dure turned his cold eyes on the constable. “And when you came upon this scene of a young lady threatened by a man, saved from him only by a brave dog, you decided to arrest the young lady.”
“I didn’t know who she was,” the constable protested weakly.
“I see. So if she had not been the fiancée of an earl, merely a young woman of obvious integrity, breeding and courage, you would have hauled her down to Scotland Yard. What would have been her crime? Let me see…Compassion? Bravery?”
The constable was beginning to look very pale. “Well, uh, it was the man’s horse. And she had taken away his whip and was acting, well, sort of wild, sir.”
Dure glanced over at Charity, taking in her muddy, stained skirts and the disarray of her hair, her bonnet tippe
d back off her head and hanging down her back, bow still tied around her neck. A smile quirked up the corners of his mouth for a moment.
“Yes. So I see. However, I find, sir, that I am a peculiar enough man that I prefer a woman who would wade into a fight against a man twice her size in order to save a tormented animal to a cold woman who would avert her eyes and scurry away in ladylike horror.”
Charity colored rosily and beamed at his compliment. “Thank you, Dure. I knew you would stand buff.”
“Always, I hope. Though I trust that in the future, when we are married, I will protect you better than this.” He turned, eyeing the constable and the carter with a chilling disfavor. “I do not like to think of you being subjected to such men as these.”
He strode forward to the men, stopping only a foot from them and directing the full force of his stare at them. “Constable, I am sure that your superior would wish to be informed of the way in which you protect the citizens of London—keeping them safe from the depredations of such vicious criminals as an eighteen-year-old girl and a starved mutt of a dog.”
“Dure…don’t be too hard on him,” Charity urged, pity rising in her at the constable’s hangdog expression. “He did not know that I was unexceptionable. I don’t look much the part of the lady.” She glanced down ruefully at her dress. “I suppose he could not help thinking that I was a bit mad.”
“Softhearted, as always.” Dure looked at her and smiled faintly. “I suggest, Constable, that you think next time before you act.”
The constable, taking his words as a dismissal, nodded emphatically, backing toward the front door. “Indeed I will, my lord. You can count on that.”
Simon turned toward the carter. “As for you…I am not quite sure. I’m tempted to take you out and give you the thrashing you deserve.”
“I don’t have no quarrel with you,” the carter protested sullenly.
“I’m sure you don’t wish to quarrel with me. You are a bully and a coward, the sort who attacks women and animals.”
