Page 62 of Walk on the Wildsyde

“Jimmy!” bellowed a deep voice, making Jimmy start with surprise and then stop in his tracks.

Muttering under her breath, Clara scowled as Mr Anderson, with Mr Angus Stewart on his heels, crossed the road in a few long strides and looked from her to the boy.

“What this? Why are ye walking about at night with just the lad for a chaperone?”

“Good evening, Mr Anderson,” Clara said coolly. “Mr Stewart, a good evening to you. How is your wife?”

“She’s well, thank you, miss.”

“And little Callum?”

“He’s grand too—”

“Never mind the social chitchat,” Mr Anderson growled.

“Not that it’s any of your business. My father is required to attend to a dying man,” Clara said, her voice frigid with annoyance. “As I was at home by myself, and he is outside Galbraith’s—”

Mr Anderson waved this information away as if it were an annoying gnat. “Aye, aye. Angus, see to it, will ye? There’s a good fellow. I’ll see Miss Halliday home.”

“Indeed, you will not,” Clara objected. “Jimmy will escort—”

But as she looked around, she discovered Jimmy had disappeared.

“I think he’s seen some of his mates,” Angus Stewart said with a rueful smile, nodding to the end of the road to where Jimmy was messing about with three other boys.

“Why, it’s too late for the boys to be out in the streets,” Clara said, setting out after him.

“I’ll see to Jimmy, don’t worry,” Angus said swiftly, looking between Clara and Mr Anderson. “You’ll see Miss Halliday home safely, won’t you?” he added, looking at Mr Anderson with a searching expression.

Mr Anderson shot him a volcanic glare, which made Angus blanch. “Aye, well, I’ll be off on my errand, then. Don’t worry, Miss Halliday, I’ll tell Jimmy to pop in on Mary and she’ll feed him cake until I get back. Then I’ll bring him home to you.”

“Thank you, Mr Stewart,” Clara said, though she rather wished him to the devil for interfering and leaving her with Hamilton Anderson. Sending her unwanted chaperone a look of icy annoyance, she stalked off in the direction of home.

“Ye are vexed with me,” he observed, keeping stride with ease, though she was walking at as fast a pace as she could manage.

“Not in the least,” she said briskly. “I am only fearful of my reputation, which will be done no good at all for being seen walking with you after dark.”

“Better than ye walking alone when anyone could accost ye. The streets are full of men bevied to their eyeballs after dark, ye ken.”

“Like you?” she suggested, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I’m nae bevied,” he replied indignantly.

“But you have been drinking,” she said smugly, knowing he could not deny it. She could smell the scent of whisky on him and was dismayed to discover it was not an entirely unpleasant odour.

“Aye,” he admitted gruffly.

“Hmph,” she said, sticking her nose in the air as if this was enough to damn him. She didn’t mean it in the slightest, having no axe to grind with a man enjoying a drink with his friends, but it was nice to have a means of treating him like a pariah when he had made her feel so… so very… Well, it didn’t matter what he’d made her feel. She’d had no business feeling it in the first place.

“Ach, dinnae be crabbit with me because I didnae kiss ye. Ye ken as well as I do, it was a bad idea.”

Clara choked, appalled that he had said such a thing out loud. Her cheeks blazed, her heart thudding as humiliation washed over her. She had at least believed he was gentleman enough not to refer to those dreadful moments.

“I am not the least bit crabbit, and I have not the slightest idea what you are referring to,” she said furiously, walking so fast she was almost running. Blind with embarrassment and indignation, she took a wrong turn and found herself in a narrow alley. Muttering, she spun around, annoyed to find his broad figure blocking the way.

“You ken very well what I’m referring to,” he said, his voice firm. His eyes glittered in the near darkness but despite the situation, Clara did not feel the slightest bit threatened by the looming figure. Furious, yes, but not threatened. He might be an arrogant, ill-mannered lummox, but she trusted him to behave as he ought. That, as it turned out, was a mistake.

“I do not!” she said stubbornly, letting out a squeak of alarm as he grasped her by the waist and pushed her up against the wall.