Page 28 of A Lady of Conscience

Ernsby made as if to join Hannah in the road, but the dogs had tangled their leads around her legs, preventing her movement. “Miss Heywood?” she called out in a shrill voice. “Perchance we should walk on?”

“I’m not accusing you of theft, sir,” Hannah said to the man. “But this donkey is stolen, however you came into possession of him.”

“Like hell he is. I bought him at the sales six months ago, fair and square.”

Evangeline barked at the man’s angry tone. Tippo gamely joined in. Several people strolling by slowed to look, curious about the cause of the commotion.

Hannah ignored both the dogs’ barking and the interested glances of passing pedestrians. “In that case, the thief is very likely the person who sold him to you.”

“Rubbish,” the man spat.

“This donkey was taken from Fallkirk’s Farm exactly six months ago. There’s a sketch of him being circulated in a local journal. I’ve seen it myself.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The costermonger returned to his crate of produce. He bent to pick it up. “Be off with you. I’ve enough work to do without having to listen to hen-witted busybodies making nuisances of themselves.”

Hannah positioned herself by the donkey’s head. The little creature pressed his small, velvety nose against her hand in silent entreaty. It gave her all the courage she needed to continue. “You may say what you like about me,” she replied to the man. “The fact remains, this donkey belongs to someone else.”

The costermonger hoisted his crate back on his shoulder with a dismissive snort. “If you’re not gone by the time I return, I’ll be summoning the constable,” he informed her. He turned to walk away.

Evangeline and Tippo continued barking at him as he went.

Hannah remained by the donkey, her shoulders squared and her back straight. “Summon him now,” she said. “A constable is precisely the man we need.”

Ernsby’s face went pale. The only thing worse for a young lady’s reputation than a public altercation in the street was an altercation involving the law. “Miss Heywood,” she protested. “Surely you should not⁠—”

“Aye, I’ll summon a constable, miss,” the costermonger growled, doubling back on Hannah. “I’ll have you up on charges for interfering with my property.” He reached out to grab her arm. “Now get away from that beast before I⁠—”

“Before you what?” a cold, iron-backed voice interrupted.

Hannah looked up with a jolt, straight into the arctic gaze of James Beresford, Viscount St. Clare.

Chapter Nine

James brought his matched set of grays alongside the donkey cart. He’d only just returned from London. An arduous journey, the final length of which he’d made in his curricle, accompanied by his faithful tiger, Bill. They’d been driving toward the Beresfords’ house near the Circus when James had seen Hannah Heywood in the street.

And not the shy, soft-spoken Hannah he’d parted from nearly two weeks ago, but a version of her he’d never seen before.

Gone was the blushing young miss unable to meet his eyes. The lady quarreling with the costermonger was standing straight and square, her eyes blazing and her voice commanding. She appeared in that moment entirely without fear. She also appeared rather magnificent.

“Ain’t none of your business, sir,” the costermonger replied to James. He again reached for Hannah’s arm.

“Don’t touch her,” James said in a tone of dangerous calm.

The costermonger froze.

Giving an unspoken signal to his tiger to hold the horses’ heads, James jumped down from his curricle. His hair was disheveled from the wind, his tan cord breeches and blue broadcloth coat dusty from the grime of the road. He paid his travel-worn appearance no mind. His attention was fully fixed on Hannah.

He strode to her side. “Are you all right?”

She stared at him for a moment in wide-eyed astonishment before collecting herself. “I’m perfectly well. It’s this poor donkey who is in peril. He’s a young lady’s treasured pet, stolen from her family’s farm last autumn. I recognized his markings at once.”

“I didn’t steal nothing,” the costermonger snapped back. “I told the lass, I bought the little beast at the sales. Cost me fifteen shillings, he did. I’ve the proof of it at my lodgings.”

“I’ll give you a sovereign for him,” James said.

Hannah started. “Oh, but you⁠—”

“A gold sovereign?” The costermonger’s eyes glittered. “I’ll take it.”