AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I didn’t say that,” he said. “Only think, if you do something stupid, I shall have to save you in some heroic manner. I haven’t yet had a chance to be heroic for you, Miss Noirot.”
“You saved me at the British Institution,” she said. “But then, you’re probably so busy rescuing damsels in distress that it slipped your mind.”
“You have grossly underestimated my powers of recollection,” he said. “Every moment of that encounter is branded into my memory. Not to mention you’ve a paltry idea of heroism.”
“It’s unsporting to be seducing me when I’m preoccupied with trying not to get us killed,” she said.
“Am I seducing you?” he said. “I hadn’t realized I’d got to that part yet. How amazingly clever I am. But here, pay attention. We’re coming to the Cumberland Gate.”
He was telling her how to guide the horses round the turn, in order to continue on the road westward along the park’s northern edge, when he broke off, looked up, and “Blast,” he said.
That was when the world went dark.
Lisburne had been so deeply engrossed in getting her smoothly through the vehicles, riders, and walkers clustered at the Cumberland Gate that he was only indistinctly aware of the rapidly changing atmosphere. Then he saw people running toward them from the footpaths. He looked up and swore. In an instant, the sky went from leaden grey to black, and the skies opened up.
Though the greater part of the beau monde had departed, the park was far from empty, especially today, when so many had turned out to watch the Gladys show. Stragglers in carriages and on horseback hurried to the shelter of trees or raced toward the gates and home. Heedless of horses and vehicles, pedestrians ran along the footpaths and across the road.
Meanwhile, the rain fell in blinding sheets. It beat on his hat and dripped from the brim, and it was in the process of flattening Leonie’s bonnet—because he’d been in too great a hurry when he left Maison Noirot to let Vines raise the hood.
Leonie stopped the horses without waiting for instructions, and Lisburne was reaching for the reins when a small figure burst out from a footpath, ran straight at the horses, and fell.
They shied, and Leonie cried, “Oh, no! The child!”
She threw the reins to him, and without regard for the dancing animals, leapt down from the curricle.
He got the startled horses under control, not the easy feat it ought to have been, because she darted at them to take hold of the child. She snatched up the limp little body and carried it to the side of the road to the shelter of a tree.
Leaving Vines in charge of the carriage, Lisburne went after her. The rain fell in torrents, turning the world into a blur. She was thoroughly drenched, her bonnet sagging limply on the back of her head.
“That was a stupid thing to do,” he said.
“What did you want me to do, run over her?”
“I did not want you to—blast! It’s breathing, I take it.”
“Yes, not that you—”
“Here, give it over.” He held out his hands.
“It is a girl.”
On closer inspection he saw that it was female, and well dressed, not a street urchin like those who roamed the parks, picking pockets. Well fed, too.
“So it is,” he said. “Give her over. She’s too heavy for you.”
Her arms must be aching because she didn’t argue about handing over her burden. He’d no sooner collected the child than its eyes opened wide, and so did its mouth. It let out a piercing wail.
“Noooooo! Let me go! Let me go! I’m wet! I’m wet!” She started pummeling him, kicking and wriggling while she screamed. She was too small to do any hurt, but it was deuced annoying. He was strongly tempted to put her down as she demanded. In the nearest puddle.
“Stop your noise,” he said. “Nobody’s hurting you.”
“I’m wet!”
“It’s raining. If you didn’t want to get wet, you oughtn’t to have run about in the rain.”
She went into a high-pitched crying fit.
“You’d better to give her back to me,” Leonie said above the uproar.
“She must weigh close to four stone,” he said. To the girl he said, “Stop your noise. You’ve no reason to take on in that ill-bred way. Nobody’s hurting you. And we’re going to give you back to whomever you belong to as soon as possible. I’m Lisburne. What’s your name?”
She went on crying, kicking, punching.
“This is tiresome,” he said.
“Vines!” he called. “Stop fooling with the hood and find the umbrella!”
Vines dug out the umbrella, delivered it, and ran back to the carriage.
“Miss Noirot, if you’d be so kind as to hold the umbrella over us, we shall set out and attempt to deliver this Satan’s spawn to its caretakers,” Lisburne said.
It was still raining, but not quite as hard as before. In any event, they were already soaked. Had a hurricane commenced, he would have set out in it to get rid of this accursed child.
/>
“She came from one of the footpaths,” he said. Two footpaths met at the Cumberland Gate. He nodded toward one. “That one?”
“Yes,” Leonie said. “If she’d come up from behind me, I wouldn’t have seen her until she was in the road.”
She’d been paying attention, as he’d told her to do. She’d had the good sense to stop the carriage promptly. She’d panicked over the child, but she hadn’t lost her wits entirely.
On the other hand, she had panicked over the child and nearly got herself killed, rescuing the little beast. Not to mention, the beast had covered Madame’s beautiful dress in mud.
“Look at what you did,” he told the wailing child, who paid him no attention whatsoever. “You spoiled Miss Noirot’s beautiful dress.”
“Nooooo! Put me down! I’m wet!”
“I’m a dressmaker,” said Madame above the shrieking. “I’ll make another one.”
“But it won’t be the same,” he said. “It’ll be in tomorrow’s style. And I like this one.”
“You weren’t expecting me to wear the same dress twice?”
“I hate you! I want to go home! I’m wet! Let me go!” More wailing, kicking, pummeling.
Maybe he could drop her by accident.
“Oh, Lady Sarah!”
The voice turned out to belong to a sodden nursemaid hurrying toward them, carrying an enormous umbrella. “Oh, my goodness, I was at my wits’ end, you naughty child.”
“This belongs to you, I take it?” he said.
“No! No! No!” Lady Sarah screamed. “Hate you! Mean, mean witch!”
“I’m so sorry, sir,” the maid said. “I’ll take her.”
“No!” As he tried to dislodge her, Lady Sarah grabbed his neckcloth. “No! I won’t go!”
“You didn’t like me much before,” he said. “Now you can’t bear to part from me? Women.”
“I’m so sorry, sir.” The nurse tried to take hold of her charge, who kicked out, striking the nurse on the chin.
It took the three of them to detach the child, and then not easily. In the struggle, she kicked the umbrella out of Leonie’s hand and dislodged his hat, which fell into a puddle. When they finally got her off, she left behind a torn neckcloth, mangled lapels, and large dollops of mud. He glanced at his hat, then kicked it aside.
