A Lady Never Tells(48)

“But we weren’t going anywhere.” Rose frowned.

“Well, no, but it doesn’t mean he wasn’t.”

“And we just happened to wander along the same route he was taking?” Rose retorted.

“Well, that does seem rather unlikely, but … what else could it be?” Mary asked reasonably. “Do you think he was following us?”

“No, of course not. It’s just … odd.”

As they trudged on, Lily glanced behind them periodically. Finally, as they stood on a street corner trying to remember which direction they had come from, Lily let out a little yelp.

“He’s there!”

“What?” As one, the other three girls swung around to look.

“I don’t see him.” Mary scanned the length of the block.

“He ducked behind that lamppost when I saw him, but look, he’s too big—you can see his arm.”

“Let’s go this way.” Mary whisked her sisters around the corner and up the block.

A few yards up the street, a carriage stood waiting at the curb. Mary hurried past it, then pulled her sisters into the street a little way in front of the carriage and team. The girls turned, peering around the horses toward the corner.

“Here, what do ye think yer doing?” the coachman growled from atop his high perch. “Get away from them horses.”

“We aren’t going to hurt them,” Camellia assured him. “We’re only standing here.”

“That’s no excuse. These’re the Honorable Mr. Pinkley Fanshaw’s team, I’ll have ye know—prime steppers, every one. I won’t have ye fluttering about, scaring them.”

“We aren’t fluttering.” Mary frowned at the man. “Would you please be quiet? You’re causing a scene.”

“I’m causing a scene!”

Whatever else he had to say, the girls did not hear it, for at that moment their pursuer came barreling around the corner.





Chapter 10




He stopped, scanning the block in front of him.

Camellia darted back onto the sidewalk and planted herself in the man’s path, arms akimbo.

“Camellia!” Rose hissed, reaching for her, but it was too late.

“What do you think you’re doing, following us?” Camellia demanded. The other girls, unable to stop their sister, hurried forward to stand beside her.

The man stared at them, opening his mouth then closing it. He swung around and took off at a run. Camellia started after him, but this time both Mary and Rose reached for her, grabbing her arms and pulling her back.#p#分页标题#e#

“Camellia! Wait! What do you think you’re doing?” Mary asked.

“I’m going to find out why he was following us.”

“Har!” A scornful laugh erupted from the coach seat above them. “Why would ye think a lout wouldn’t be following ye?” the driver of the vehicle called down from his perch. “Four of ye, no better than ye should be, I warrant, traipsin’ about, showing your ankles to all and sundry—it’s a wonder ye didn’t have more than one lad following ye.”

Mary blushed to her hairline at his words, and the four girls glanced down at their skirts. Perhaps they were a trifle shorter than most of the women’s skirts, Mary admitted; after all, repeated washings had shrunk the cotton. But they did not fully expose their ankles, and, in any case, the girls’ legs were concealed by half boots.

“How dare you!” It surprised Mary that it was Lily, not Camellia, who stepped forward to face the man, arms crossed, her face bright with anger. “We’ve done nothing wrong, and it certainly isn’t our fault if that—that churl was following us. Can four women not walk through this city unaccosted?”

“That’s right!” Camellia, never one to avoid a fight, moved up to stand beside her sister. “You’re the one who should be ashamed, sitting in judgment like that.”

“I should, should I?” The coachman climbed down from his seat, an action somewhat robbed of its dramatic effect by the effort it required for him to maneuver his rather too-well-fed body off the seat and down the side of the carriage.

“Camellia! Lily!” Mary plucked at Camellia’s sleeve. “Please. We cannot get into an altercation here on the street.” She could imagine the earl’s reaction—and, she had to admit, he would have every right to be upset. The driver was excessively rude, of course, but even in Three Corners, getting into a shouting match with a stranger on the street was not the behavior of a well-brought-up woman.

But temper had gotten the better of both her younger sisters. Facing the red-faced coachman, their voices rose as they responded to his shouted imprecations. Passersby as far as half a block away were turning to stare. Even worse, Mary saw, the onlookers were drawing nearer. Soon there would be a crowd around them.