Regency Rogues: Outrageous Scandal. Annie Burrows

Seven

      Prudence had hardly got going when a trio of young men emerged from a side street and sauntered in her direction. She could tell they were trouble even before they pushed to the front of the crowd who’d gathered to hear her sing.

      She did her best not to display any sign of nervousness. But it was difficult not to feel anxious when one of them pulled out a quizzing glass, raked her insolently from top to toe, and said, ‘Stap me, but I never thought to find such a prime article in such an out-of-the way place.’

      She carried on singing as though she hadn’t heard him.

      One of his companions, meanwhile, turned to look at the farmer standing next to him. With a supercilious sneer he pulled out a handkerchief and held it to his nose. The yokel turned a dull, angry shade of red and shuffled away.

      The three young bucks had soon had the same effect on all her audience. By the time she’d reached the end of her song they’d all dispersed. Leaving her alone on the steps of the cross.

      Time to leave. Her voice was past its best anyhow. What with having nobody to bring her a glass of water...

      She darted the bucks a smile she hoped was nonchalant as she bent to pick up the hat.

      ‘Allow me,’ said the one with the quizzing glass, snatching it from the ground before she could get to it. He smirked at his companions, who chuckled and drew closer.

      ‘Thank you,’ she said, holding out her hand in the faint hope that he’d simply give her the hat. Though she could tell he had no intention of doing any such thing.

      ‘Not much to show for your performance,’ he said, glancing into the hat, then at her. ‘Hardly worth your trouble, really.’

      The others sniggered.

      ‘It is to me,’ she said. ‘Please hand it over.’

      He took a step closer, leering at her. ‘Only if you pay a forfeit. I think a hatful of coins is worth a kiss, don’t you?’

      His friends found him terribly amusing, to judge from the way they all hooted with laughter.

      He pressed forward, lips puckered as though to make her pay the forfeit.

      She backed up a step. ‘Absolutely not,’ she protested.

      ‘A kiss for each of us,’ cried the one who’d driven the farmer away with his scented handkerchief.

      All three were advancing on her now, forcing her to retreat up the steps until her back was pressed to the market cross.

      ‘Let me pass,’ she said, as firmly as she could considering her heart was banging against her ribs so hard.

      ‘If you are going to give my friends a kiss just for letting you pass,’ said the ringleader, ‘I should demand something more for the return of your takings, don’t you think?’

      The look in his eyes put her forcibly in mind of the greasy ostler from The Bull. And when he leaned forward, as though to follow through on his thinly veiled threat, her whole being clenched so hard she was convinced she was about to be sick.

      ‘You will demand nothing, you damned insolent pup,’ said someone, in such a menacing growl that all three bucks spun round to see who was trying to spoil their fun.

      It was Mr Willingale. Oh, thank heavens.

      ‘I will take that,’ he said, indicating the hat.

      Miraculously, they didn’t argue, but meekly handed it over and melted away, muttering apologies.

      Or perhaps it wasn’t such a miracle. He’d looked disreputable enough last night for her aunt to select him to act as the villain in her scheme. With the addition of a day’s growth of beard and a furious glare in those steely grey eyes he looked as though he might easily rip three slender young fops to ribbons and step over their lifeless corpses without experiencing a shred of remorse.

      She forgot all about her determination to prove she didn’t need him to look after her as she stumbled down the steps and flung her arms round his neck.

      ‘I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life,’ she sobbed. ‘I thought you’d gone! Left me!’

      ‘Of course not,’ he snapped, standing completely rigid in the circle of her arms. As though he was highly embarrassed.

      ‘Oh, I do beg your pardon,’ she said, unwinding her arms from his neck and stepping hastily back.

      ‘That’s quite all right,’ he said gruffly, patting her shoulder in an avuncular manner. ‘You had a fright. Here,’ he said then, tipping the small change from the hat into her hands. ‘Your takings.’

      Then he clapped the hat back onto his head and tipped it at an angle that somehow magnified the aura of leashed power already hanging round him.

      A tide of completely feminine feelings surged through her. Feelings he’d made it very clear he found embarrassingly unwelcome. She bent her head to hide the blush heating her cheeks, pretending she was engrossed in counting her takings.

      Fourpence three farthings. Better than she’d have thought, considering her audience hadn’t looked all that affluent.

      ‘Well?’

      His dry, sarcastic tone robbed her of what little pleasure she might have felt at her success if he hadn’t already made her feel so very awkward, and foolish, and helpless, and...female.

      ‘Well, what?’

      ‘Do you have enough to pay the landlord for our breakfast?’

      ‘You know very well I haven’t.’

      ‘So we shall have to pop my watch after all.’ He grimaced. ‘I can’t believe I’m using such a vulgar term. I suppose I must have caught it from Hugo. He is always being obliged to “pop” something or other to “keep the dibs in tune”, or so he informs me.’

      ‘Not necessarily.’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘Well, we have this,’ she said, jingling her coins.

      ‘Oh, please,’ he huffed. ‘We’ve already established you’ve hardly made anything there.’

      ‘It’s enough to buy some bread and cheese,’ she pointed out. ‘Which will keep us going for the rest of the day. We have a week before we have to pay the landlord what we owe him. A week in which to raise the money some other way.’

      ‘That’s true,’ he said, with what looked suspiciously like relief.

      ‘And if all else fails, or if we run into any other difficulties, we will have your watch in reserve.’

      ‘And knowing you,’ he muttered, ‘we are bound to run into more difficulties.’

      ‘And what is that supposed to mean?’

      ‘Just that you seem to have a propensity for stumbling from one disaster to another.’

      ‘I never had any disasters until I met you.’

      ‘That is not true. We would not have met at all had you not already been neck-deep in trouble. And since then I have had to rescue you from that ostler, and your penury, and your foolish attempt to evade me, and now a pack of lecherous young fops.’

      For a moment his pointing all this out robbed her of speech. But she soon made a recovery.

      ‘Oh? Well, I do not recall asking you to do any of those things!’

      ‘Nevertheless I have done them. And what’s more I fully intend to keep on doing them.’ He halted, frowning in a vexed way at the clumsiness of the words that had just tumbled from his lips. ‘That is,’ he continued, ‘I am going to stick to your side until I know you are safe.’

      ‘Well, until we reach wherever it is that your dragon of an aunt lives and you