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No man has touched my legs before.She shivered in anticipation. His hands, although calloused and scarred—particularly across the knuckles—were strong and well-shaped. They were also very gentle.
“It doesn’t seem that aught is broken, Miss,” he said reassuringly. “Can you try to stand, if I help you up?”
“I can try to help, also,” said Lady Hermione, who had been hovering near her friend.
“Forgive me, but I did not catch your names, Misses…?” The blue-eyed man seemed a little startled that he now had two, not just one, young ladies to deal with.
“This is—” Lady Hermione hesitated just an instant, and the man’s face seemed to register her hesitation, although he said nothing. “This is Josie Johnson, and I am Hetty Glump.”
“Miss Glump. Miss Johnson,” the man acknowledged with a bow of his head.
He seems so much better bred than his companions,Lady Josephine noted to herself. “And you, sir? May we know the name of our savior?”
“I’m christened Ashton Smith. But you may often hear my friends call me ‘Ace.’”
“Mr. Smith, we are ever so grateful for your aid.”
“Not at all. Think nothing of it. But may I suggest, Miss Johnson, that we get you into a standing position to avoid further stares from the boat queue. There, now, Miss Glump, prop up her other arm on your side. Shall I summon the authorities, so you can file a report on that fellow?”
“No!” Lady Josephine said in horror. “No authorities, please! I’m fine, now, honestly.”I can just imagine my lord Papa’s face, if he were to hear of this! And our London glory days would be over immediately.
Once again, Mr. Smith’s face seemed to note something unusual in her fear of attention from “the authorities.” But again, he said nothing.
Just then, Paddy and Charley came back up the walk. “Did you find the scoundrel, lads?” asked Mr. Smith.
“Indeed we did, Ace,” said Paddy cheerfully.
“Took ‘im behind the bushes and gave ‘im a right pastin.’ Broke that paw in a few places, too. I doubt ‘e’ll be gropin’ too many ladies fer a while,” Charley said in more bloodthirsty tones.
“Good men,” said Ace. “Now get yourselves back to the John Bull and wait for me there. I will escort the young ladies home safely.”
“Sure, and don’t some fellas keep all the best jobs fer themselves?” Paddy said darkly.
* * *
They crossed the Thames. Mr. Smith helped them in and out of the boat with great dignity. On the other side, he hailed a hansom cab, for which he insisted on paying.
“But we can pay!” Lady Hermione protested. “We are already too deeply in your debt. Besides, we are working girls,” she said proudly.
Mr. Smith smiled.What a charming smile—such even, white teeth,Lady Josephine observed.
“Working girls, is it?” Mr. Smith teased. “Now, let me guess: you, Miss Glump, are, in fact, a first soprano at the Opera House. And you, Miss Johnson, are a prima ballerina with the Royal Ballet. Although it will be noted in Society papers tomorrow morning that, to London’s disappointment, you will be required to stay off your feet for a few days.”
The girls giggled. “No, no,” said Lady Josephine. “We’re just milliners. But very good ones. We work at Madame Vallencourt’s shop, near Mayfair.”
“Well, if I ever need a bonnet, then…,” said Mr. Smith. And the girls broke into uproarious laughter.
“Come to us, then,” said Lady Hermione, her usual dullness slipping away under the influence of the man’s charm. “We’ll give you a discount!”
Before long, they were within sight of Mrs. McCurdy’s boarding house. “It’s the red brick one, down there,” said Lady Josephine. “But, Mr. Smith, you can’t bring us to the door—our landlady is strict—”
“Oh, I know about landladies,” said Mr. Smith. He rapped on the cab’s partition, so the driver could signal his horses to stop. “I’ll take my leave here. Drive on, cabbie!” And he jumped out and walked in the opposite direction down the London street, whistling softly between his teeth.
Lady Hermione explained to Mrs. McCurdy that her friend’s ankle had been sprained. “Sure, the poor dear!” the landlady commiserated.
They put her to bed, with cold compresses to bring down the swelling and dull the pain.
But Lady Josephine felt no pain. Her whole body was on blissful fire, recalling one man’s touch.Mr. Smith. Ashton. “Ace.”
Will I ever see him again? He was the one for me, I know he was.
And heedless of the pain to her leg, she writhed on the little bed, remembering his hands gently caressing her ankle, imagining those hands moving upward, upward, to her thighs and beyond. Lady Hermione, thankfully, was fast asleep after the evening’s excitement. But Lady Josephine could not sleep.
Is he thinking of me now, as I am imagining him?
I must see him again—but how? He knows where I live and where I work. I know nothing of his whereabouts.
She almost groaned aloud at the frustration of being a woman—of having to wait to be pursued, instead of pursuing freely herself.
