LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

they had been granted a privilege they must not abuse.

      Ivy sat down on the carpet beside them and sniffed loudly. “It’s flash enough,” she conceded. “You said we could ‘ave some food?”

      Donal set Sir Reginald on the sofa and brought out the basket of bread and fruit he had bought before he left for the Zoological Gardens. “I’ll purchase more when the market opens in the morning,” he said, “and I’ll find you a dress.” He surveyed her slight form, reflecting on how little he knew of women’s garments. Surely anything would be an improvement on her current wardrobe. “I think it best that you remain here when I go out.”

      Ivy snatched the bread from the basket and broke it in half, dividing one part among the dogs and sinking strong, surprisingly white teeth into the other. “You ashamed o’ me?” she asked with studied indifference.

      “Not in the least. But you will have to take a bath—”

      Ivy shot to her feet, crumbs showering from her patched bodice. “I ain’t takin’ off me clothes!”

      “I’ll have them send up a hip bath and hot water while you hide behind the bed,” he said patiently. “Then I’ll leave you alone. Only the dogs will see you.”

      She thumped back down and reached for an apple. “I scarcely remember what it feels like to be clean.”

      Donal glanced at her sharply, aware of a sudden change in her voice. Gone was the thick rookery accent; she had pronounced every word with the perfect diction of the educated class.

      “Who were your parents, Ivy?” he asked.

      She noticed his intent look and hunched protectively around the basket. “Oi don’t remember nuffin’.”

      “Nothing at all?”

      “You sayin’ Oi’m a liar?”

      Donal sighed and sat on the nearest chair. “You’ve had a difficult day. I suggest you try to get some sleep.”

      She glanced toward the door that separated the two rooms. “Only if you stay in there.”

      “Wouldn’t you rather have the bed?”

      “Ain’t used to ’em.” She grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. The dogs snuggled close. “Go on.”

      Donal picked up Sir Reginald and started for the bedchamber. “You will still be here in the morning?”

      “‘Course Oi will. You promised me a new dress.”

      There was nothing else to be done but obey the girl’s command. Donal entered the bedchamber and closed the door, sending a last request to Ivy’s canine friends. If the girl attempted to leave, the dogs would warn him. In any case, he had no intention of sleeping until he and Ivy were safely on the train to York.

      He stretched out on the bed fully-clothed, Sir Reginald tucked in the crook of his arm, and let the intoxicating scents and shrouded mysteries of the jungle close in around him. He stalked with the tigress, his ears twitching as he caught the movement of deer in the bush. She paused to meet his gaze, inviting him to join in the hunt, and her golden eyes turned the somber gray of a winter-bound lake.

       “Can it be, sir,” she purred, “that in spite of your intimate acquaintance with tigers, you have never observed a female of the species Homo sapiens?”

      Donal snapped awake to the sound of scratching on the door. Daylight streamed through the window. In an instant he was on his feet, his head ringing with the dogs’ sorrowful apologies. He flung open the door.

      Ivy was gone. She had left the blanket neatly folded on the sofa beside the empty basket.

      Sir Reginald trotted up behind him and pawed at the leg of his trousers. The mongrels tucked their tails and whined. They were as disconcerted as Donal, for somehow the girl had got past them in spite of their vigilance. Not one of them remembered the moment of her departure.

      Ivy was clearly no ordinary child. Donal had severely underestimated her, and miscalculated her trust in him. He had made entirely too many errors in judgment since coming to London. This world left him as addled as a sheep with scrapie, and he would begin to question his sanity unless he were quit of it soon. Quit of men and all their troublesome works.

      But he had made a commitment to Ivy. Even if she had chosen not to trust him after all, he wasn’t prepared to surrender her to the streets.

      “We will find her,” he assured the dogs firmly. “One of you will come with me.”

      The little terrier gave a piercing bark and leaped straight up in the air. Donal set out a bowl of water for the dogs and made a hasty change of drawers and shirt, leaving his jaw unshaven and covering the tangle of his hair with his black top hat.

      A few minutes later he squared his shoulders and plunged into the forbidding wilderness of Covent Garden.

      MIDMORNING IN LONDON’S biggest market was a riot of color, sound and utter confusion. Theodora took in the sights with the same wide-eyed fascination that she had viewed the Zoological Gardens, the Tower of London and Buckingham Palace, while Cordelia thought of home and Inglesham kept himself busy shielding his charges from jostling or any other annoyance. Here costermongers and fishwives rubbed elbows with ladies in extravagant layers of petticoats and gentlemen in velvet-collared frock coats and tight woollen trousers, all of them shopping for bargains in a place where nearly anything could be had for the right price.

      Theodora caught sight of a flower stall overflowing with bouquets of every variety of flower and stared at it wistfully until Inglesham recognized her longing and steered her through the crowd. Cordelia lagged behind, her senses strangely on the alert, and so she was perfectly positioned to observe the next sequence of events.

      She saw Theodora cradling a spray of primroses, absorbed in their scent as the flower-seller haggled with Inglesham over the price. Inglesham half turned toward Cordelia, an indulgent smile on his handsome face. And just as he turned, a figure in the remnants of a faded dress darted from between a pair of chattering kitchen maids, slipped behind the viscount and dipped her hand inside his coat.

      The thief had no sooner relieved Inglesham of his purse than he spun about and caught her wrist, nearly jerking her off her feet. Theodora dropped the flowers, her mouth opening in shock. Cordelia glimpsed the pickpocket’s face—a piquant visage that might once have been pretty—and pushed her way to the viscount’s side.

      “You little mongrel,” Inglesham was saying, shaking the girl from side to side. “Thought I’d be easy prey, did you? Once I have you up before a magistrate—” He noticed Cordelia’s approach and set the girl back on her feet. “Mrs. Hardcastle,” he said formally, “perhaps you should escort Miss Shipp to a place of safety while I deal with this cutpurse. I shall summon a constable—”

      “Wait,” Cordelia said. She studied the girl’s face more carefully. She appeared to be no more than eleven or twelve years of age, and her eyes—when they flashed defiantly up at Cordelia—were a surprisingly fetching bright blue. But her hair hung in matted hanks about her shoulders, its color indistinguishable, and her feet were bound in rags instead of shoes.

      “What is your name, child?” Cordelia asked gently.

      “Her name is of no consequence,” Inglesham said. “She is a thief and must be punished.”

      “But you have recovered your purse, Lord Inglesham,” she said, matching his cool tone. “The child is obviously poor and desperate, or she would not be driven to such extremes. Where is the harm in letting her go?”

      “The harm lies in permitting her to continue her thieving ways. Surely you, of all people, do not approve of flouting the law.”

      “Surely the law can occasionally err on the side of mercy.”

      “I agree,” Theodora said. “I should hate to think—”

      Inglesham shook his head. “Forgive

Скачать книгу