“You little hussy!” The coachman reached out and grabbed Camellia’s arm, jerking her forward.
He raised his other hand as if to hit her, but Rose flung herself forward and wrapped both her arms tightly around his, holding it back. Even as he shook her off, Mary charged in, hands clasped together, and began to rain blows upon the man’s head. Lily clawed at the hand he had clamped around Camellia’s arm as Camellia tried to wrest free.
The crowd drew closer, entranced by the sight of a fop examining the tails of his coat and keening over the damage done to them while a few feet away his hefty coachman shuffled around in a clumsy dance, warding off the blows of three young women with one hand while with the other he clung to the arm of a fourth. The dog squirmed out of Camellia’s grip and landed on the sidewalk, where he proceeded to once again bark merrily at the combatants, now and then springing up in a paroxysm of joy.#p#分页标题#e#
It was into this scene that a gentleman strode, smoothly parting the crowd until he was standing at the edge of the inner circle. He stood for a moment, watching the struggle; then, with a sigh, he stepped forward, raised his cane, and brought it down sharply upon the coachman’s head.
The burly driver staggered, blinking, and released Camellia’s arm. She too stumbled backward and was steadied by a hand on her arm.
“Careful there,” said the gentleman who had intervened in the scuffle.
Mary heard the voice and was swept by a wave of relief. “Sir Royce! Thank heaven!”
She turned to him, a smile breaking over her face. He swept her a bow, grinning, and in that instant she remembered that she thoroughly disliked him. A variety of conflicting emotions rushed through her, foremost among them an intense gratitude. But following directly on its heels was the humiliating knowledge that Royce had come upon her and her sisters engaged in a public brawl—a fight, moreover, that was being witnessed by a swelling crowd of people. She had been furious with him for calling her a hoyden the other night, but how could she deny his charge when here she was, wrestling with a coachman in the street?
“Well, I can see that you girls have gotten yourselves into another interesting situation.” Royce’s eyes danced.
Mary’s lips tightened. She could not even try to make an excuse.
Lily was not so reticent. “It wasn’t our fault,” she cried, rushing over to Royce. “Truly it wasn’t. We were just standing in front of his horses and—”
“’Ere, now, wot d’ye think ye’re doin’?” The driver, recovered somewhat from the blow Royce had struck him, planted himself in front of Royce, regarding him in a bellicose manner.
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Royce replied coolly. “What were you doing to these young women?”
“Doin’! I weren’t doin’ nothing to ’em!” The coachman puffed up with indignation. “It were them what attacked me. And Mr. Fanshaw.”
“We did nothing to Mr. Fanshaw!” Mary could not keep from joining in at this gross misstatement.
“That hound of yers did!” The driver pointed an accusing finger, and they all swung to look at the animal in question.
The dog was sitting on the sidewalk observing them with great interest, his stumpy tail wiggling back and forth. Royce gazed at him for a moment, then turned back to Mary. “You have acquired a dog?”
“No. He’s not ours. He just came running up when he heard this man ranting and raving. And he did not attack Mr. Fanshaw. Well, not really.” She glanced somewhat uncertainly over to where Fanshaw stood, still morosely examining the teeth marks in the tail of his coat.
The man’s head came up at her words. “What do you mean? That wretched cur certainly did attack me. Just look at my pantaloons!”
“Yes, well, I’m sure you can clean them. And he did not mean to harm them,” Mary replied impatiently. “He was merely excited.”
“My coat is ruined!” Mr. Fanshaw stretched out his hand toward Sir Royce, shaking the end of the coattail in emphasis. “Look at these teeth marks! There’s a rip, too. I cannot just clean this away. That dog ought to be done away with!”
“No!” Lily cried, and Camellia swept the dog up again, as if the fop might seize him and make good his threat.
“My good fellow, I am sure there is no need for that.” Sir Royce clapped his arm around the man’s shoulders in a friendly way. “Please, allow me to give you the name of my tailor. I am sure he can whip you up another coat to replace it.”#p#分页标题#e#
As he pulled out his card case and extracted a card, Fanshaw ran an assessing eye over Royce’s olive green jacket. “Weston?” he hazarded.