Page 46 of Walk on the Wildsyde

Chapter 13

Cat,

I had no intention of marrying the girl, for heaven’s sake! However, I’d like to know how I’m supposed to find a wife if I do not converse and dance and spend time with women in order to discover if there is one I like. I will thank you to keep your nose out of my affairs and leave Tilly to me and to Mrs Harris. Neither of us need your advice.

―Excerpt of a letter from The Right Hon’ble Philip Barrington, The Earl of Ashburton to his younger sister, the Most Hon’ble Catherine ‘Cat’ St Just, Marchioness of Kilbane (children of the Most Hon’ble Lord and Lady Lucian and Matilda Barrington, The Marquess and Marchioness of Montagu).

24th June 1850, Wick, Caithness, Scotland.

“’Ere, I wanna word with you.”

Hamilton turned as the sharp voice cut through the bustle of the harbour and saw Jimmy pushing his way past fisherman big enough to lift him with one hand and toss him out to sea. They let him through, though, and Hamilton realised he’d become a familiar figure down here of late. That wouldn’t do. The life of a fisherman was a hard one and Clara would fret over the laddie. He’d have to find him something better than that.

“Well, I’m waiting, was there any word in particular ye were wanting to share?” Hamilton asked dryly as the lad stood before him, arms folded, his narrow face screwed up into something fierce and battle ready.

“I want to know what your intentions are,” the boy said, holding Hamilton’s gaze unblinking.

“My intentions?” Hamilton repeated, startled into a bark of laughter that he would have smothered if he’d not been so surprised.

Jimmy’s small fist shot out and punched him in a spot that made Hamilton double over as pain exploded in his privates.

“Ye wee bawbag,” he said breathlessly, grasping Jimmy by the scruff and towing him behind a fishing boat in dry dock for repairs. Blinking away tears as his eyes watered, Hamilton gave the lad a shake. “What the hell did ye do that for?”

“For taking advantage of Miss Clara,” Jimmy said defiantly, though his face was white now, fear in his eyes as he regarded Hamilton with trepidation. “She’s a good girl, she is, not some doxy to be messing about with in the dark.”

“Ach!” Hamilton said impatiently, feeling like a proper brute now. “Wee yin, ye have nae need to fret. I mean to court her, but I’m sorry I dinnae speak to ye first, aye? I ken very well that ye try to keep her safe, and I thank ye for it.”

“You’ve asked her to marry you?” Jimmy said, his eyes lighting up at this information.

“Give a fellow a chance,” Hamilton said, trying to get his breath back. “Nae, I have nae done so yet, but I mean to court her, like I said.”

“And that was courting, was it?” Jimmy said, a sarcastic edge to the question, clearly still sceptical of his intentions.

Hamilton sighed. “I ken very well, I didnae behave as I ought,” he said defensively. “A fellow… well, even a gentleman can get carried away, aye, when his blood’s up, but I meant her nae insult and I would nae dishonour her, my word upon it.”

“Swear it,” Jimmy said, spitting in his hand and holding it out to Hamilton.

Eyeing him resignedly, Hamilton did likewise, and they shook upon it.

“You mind you treat her proper from now on, like a lady,” Jimmy told him sternly.

“I will,” Hamilton growled, losing patience with the little devil. “And ye will nae use that dirty trick on me again if ye are wishing to keep yer hands attached to yer arms. If I wed the lassie, she will be wanting bairns at some point, and that will nae help my cause, aye?”

Jimmy sniggered at that. “I got you good, didn’t I?” he said in satisfaction.

“Aye,” Hamilton said sourly. “But I’m wise now, so dinnae try it again.”

“I won’t. I got other moves, though, so don’t you go thinking I can’t get ye good if you misbehave. And I taught Clara a couple of ‘em too,” Jimmy retorted, and then darted off as Hamilton offered him a clip round the ear.

“I dinnae ken what that porridge ever did to ye, but I reckon it doesnae deserve such treatment,” Mrs Macready said dryly, regarding Clara as she sat at the table in the kitchen, stabbing her spoon distractedly into the rapidly cooling bowl.

“I beg your pardon,” Clara said, straightening and looking sheepish.

Though her father disapproved of her eating in the kitchen with Mrs Macready, he had gone to the church hall early that morning and was not around to scold her.

“Is it nae to yer liking?”

“Oh, yes! Yes, it’s very good, I’m just wool gathering is all,” Clara said, fighting a blush as she remembered exactly what she’d been thinking about. Her mind was in turmoil, her entire being upside down and inside out and it was all Hamilton Anderson’s fault.