Page 3 of No Ordinary Lady

What surprised him was that she was young—couldn’t have been much more than two and twenty years of age—and despite the raggedy dress she wore, Daniel thought her rather handsome. He’d always favored blondes.

But her scowl could crack the earth and her tongue lashed fire over the man holding her by one arm. Their eyes met, and Daniel’s breath caught. He licked his lips, and the woman’s gaze dipped to his mouth. Attraction sizzled in the air between them, and he took another step forward, intending to rescue her or claim her perhaps.

But the old man must have sensed his intent and wrenched her back against him first, and the moment passed as her gaze left him. Clearly, she wasn’t happy with being sold off to the highest bidder like some prized mare at Tattersall’s, and Daniel couldn’t blame her.

Women were not property to be sold off to the highest bidder, unless they would be married into a good family as part of the process. That seemed hardly likely given this crowd.

Daniel folded his arms over his chest and scowled at the man holding her captive. It was none of his business, but he felt compelled to say something about the matter and put a stop to this ridiculous wife auction. “Have you not the stamina to mount her anymore, sir?”

The crowd laughed at his ribald taunt.

The man turned to face him, and Daniel was taken by surprise by his trodden-down bearing. He was old, his hair peppered with gray, and there were deep lines etched on his face. He seemed weary down to the bone.

The old man looked him up and down and nodded. “I’m dying,” he said simply, voice no longer as strong as it had been when he’d addressed the crowd. “I want her to have a good life after I’m gone. Are you married, sir?”

“No,” he blurted. Well, not yet. But he’d already decided about that. Amy Wilson would be his bride in a few short weeks. Eighteen years of age, bright minded, and a favorite of his mother’s, Amy would make a perfectly decent countess. She was already accomplished in household management. Her temperament, though, was sedate, utterly unexcitable, which made her perfect for the role of a country wife.

He glanced at the woman standing between him and the old man. She was more to his taste than Amy, but he couldn’t have her.

He was always drawn to outspoken women. The way she clung to the older man made him a little envious. She seemed to adore the old fellow now, despite his attempt to sell her off just a moment ago.

He gestured to her. “I think she’d rather stay with you until the end.”

“Finally, a sensible man speaks,” the young woman exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. Her manner turned tender toward the old fellow. “I’ll be all right,” she promised him, softening her tone a lot as she leaned into him. “I need little, and I want to spend our last days together.”

“You need a home for after I’m gone, pet,” he said, cupping the young woman’s cheek. “And a man to protect you from the harm walking the world. I would rest easy in my grave knowing you were taken care of.”

“Yeah, but who is going to take care of her poor next husband when she loses her temper again,” someone asked from the crowd.

Everyone laughed, and the crowd began to disperse. Clearly, there would be no takers in this village for such a woman.

Daniel remained behind a moment longer, touched by their situation. He couldn’t help the woman find a replacement husband, but he could set the old man’s mind at ease about their present circumstances. He slipped his fingers into his waistcoat pocket and withdrew some coins. “Here. Take this.”

The gold sovereigns were the most he had on him. A fortune to someone of their inferior status, more than likely. More than enough to ensure the comfort of this old man in his dying days, see him buried, and perhaps still leave enough for his widow to live on after he was gone.

“We don’t need his money,” the woman said, bristling with indignation for Daniel’s offer of charity.

But the older man took the coins and tucked them into his waistcoat. “Thank you, sir. Bless you. You’ve a good heart. A true saint.”

“Hardly,” he muttered under his breath. “Good day to you.”

“Yes, good day,” the old man said with a slight smile.

The woman hooked her arm through the old man’s. “Let’s get you home.”

Daniel nodded to himself as he turned away, knowing he’d taken care of someone less fortunate than himself and feeling good about it for a few steps. He was glad he had stopped here today.

But then a small body crashed into him, nearly knocking him over. “Here now.”

A boy of maybe eight years struggled to separate from him. Eventually, he pushed against Daniel’s chest and then sprinted off through the village.

Daniel frowned at the fellow’s haste and then scowled. The least he could have done was apologize.

Daniel straightened his coat as he headed back to the inn, but the feeling of satisfaction faded with every step he took closer to home. Was it his impending marriage that had robbed him of greater satisfaction in a good deed done today, or the discovery of Sunday’s anxious face waiting for him on the front step of the inn?

Sunday scowled darkly. “I thought you’d left me here!”

“I would never do that,” Daniel promised, laughing at poor Sunday, and pushing his doubts aside yet again. He was doing the right thing, going home to marry, but Sunday was a worrier down to his toes, which made him a perfect valet for a somewhat careless man. “Where did you go? I thought you’d join me in the tavern for an ale.”