For a penny’s worth, a bored nag was brought forth from makeshift stables with an additional three plainly stuffed legs tied to his girth. Horseshoes had been sewed on so that the additional limbs dragged upon the ground.
Vegetables, a few goose bun wrappers and mouldy bread were thrown at the owner before he withdrew from whence he came, muttering that no one could take a joke these days.
Verity fidgeted with the coils of gold that embellished the bodice of her silver-grey Sephi-designed dress, its skirts wider for ease of walking and with detachable sleeves in case itbecame too warm. “Perhaps you ought to choose the next entertainment.”
Her escort smiled. Somewhat sensually.
A shiver caught her.
Best keep those sleeves on.
With a purposeful eye,Miles reconnoitred the attractions of the fair, his height enabling him to see well enough over the hats and bonnets.
It was all so damn crowded with nowhere to accommodate a little…interrogation. Until that was, he lit upon… “The conjuror?”
Miss Seymour followed his pointed finger but she appeared to suppress a shudder. “I… Such a tent would be most dark.” She swiped her tongue over her lower lip. “And small. And it’s a shame to be inside on such a beautiful day.”
“Ah.” Miles’ lips curved as he spied a lofty construction in the far distance… “How about the swingboats?”
“Er…”
“Good.” And he swept her off through the mêlée, on past a man juggling knives and a ventriloquist who held a puppet of Napoleon upon his lap.
Due to the space needed for such constructions, the swingboats were at the edge of the fair, near the Hogsmill river and ale tent, and a faint breeze carried the scent of trampled grass and flowing ale. But there first came a…
Well, a huge whirligig of some sort that was the height of a tree, fabricated from wooden struts and rope. Boxes were affixed at intervals and children sat within them with beaming smiles. Two grunting men, with the muscles for the job, turned a connecting wheel so that the entire whirligig revolved sedately around and around, the children squealing as their boxes rose tothe top before descending again, a clever mechanism ensuring the boxes remained upright.
Ingenious but not as useful as a swingboat.
Each one consisted of two A-frames joined by a crossbeam, from which hung a brightly painted open boat suspended on sturdy ropes, a low door allowing entry. Once seated within, the boat’s sides would be almost at waist height…ensuring privacy.
A bearded man held an empty boat steady, while Miles assisted Miss Seymour up the short ladder and into one end before he climbed in to sit at the other, their feet brushing.
It was quite…cramped.
Miss Seymour pushed her satchel aside and began to shuffle her derriere on the hard bench, muttering something about her Aunt Theo. She endeavoured to sit straight but the low seat made it nigh impossible and finally with another mutter, she settled back into the curved end and held tight to the sides.
As the bearded owner retrieved a clay pipe from his jacket draped over the A-frame, Miles bent over the side. “14thRegiment of Foot, am I right? I know that jacket. A brave company of men.”
Crooked teeth split his beard in a grin. “Light company at Waterloo. And I could tell yer to be an officer from the way yer marched over ’ere.”
“Captain in the 13thLight Dragoons.” Miles bent nearer. “Don’t suppose you could give me and the lady a bit of…privacy. I can manage the rope.” And he pressed three coins into the man’s palm.
“Pleasure to assist the cavalry on a conquest.” With a wink, he passed Miles the rope pull. “I’ll be in the ale tent,” he added, before he strolled around to stand behind Miss Seymour. “Enjoy yourself, Miss,” he called out in hearty voice.
Her eyes grew wide as copper pennies.
And the boat was given a mild push.
“Oh. Well, this is quite…pleasant an amusement.” Miss Seymour cleared her throat, avoided his eyes and flung her head back to watch the clouds as the boat swung back and forth.
“It is indeed.” He shifted lower, booted feet brushing hers. Knew he had to get on with it. “Verity…if I may call you that? After all, we were once such close…friends.”
Her head dropped back from the clouds. “Er…”
“And as such, can you tell me more of this…Mr Locksley.”
“Locksley?” She blinked. “Why do you keep asking about him?”
