holding his nose. Jack stood on the bank above him, breathing hard, his tone making the pond water seem warm by comparison.
“A bit of advice, Clapford. Never raise your hand to a lady—especially one with highly placed friends. You would find mending a broken career a great deal harder than mending a broken nose.”
He stalked back to Mariah and ushered her and Mercy firmly to the coach, shouting to the driver to get underway.
No one spoke as the coach rattled down the ill-paved drive. As they made the turn onto the Cambridge Road, Mariah emerged from her shock enough to spring to the window for a look back. Mercy trampled on Jack’s toes to join her. Clapford was standing in the carriage turn, shaking a fist after them. When Mariah slid back into her seat, Jack was staring at her.
“You hit him,” she said in a shocked half whisper.
“I did. Yes.” He took a deep breath, set his hat aside, and started to remove his damp gloves.
“A right proper facer, sarr.” Mercy beamed fresh respect.
“He brought up a fist—I…I thought he was going to strike me,” Mariah said, still trying to grasp how such a calamitous string of events could have happened. “He very nearly did. Ifyou hadn’t—” She paused for breath and composure. “All I did was suggest he consider the health of his servants as important as that of his blessed fish…that he show a bit of common decency.”
“Expecting common decency from the nobility? ” Jack’s brows rose. “How eccentric of you.”
“It is not ridiculous to expect people of rank and responsibility to behave with reason and restraint.” She bristled. “Did you see those boys? As blue from bruises as they were from cold. Was I supposed to just stand there and let him thrash me the way he does his stable boys? Someone has to stand up to overprivileged bullies.”
“Does that someone always have to be you?” he countered irritably.
Of course it did.
It was part of who she was, he realized, somewhat rattled by the conclusion. Standing up to arrogant, overprivileged noblemen was exactly what she would do— what she had done that first night at the inn.
“She’s a good miztress, sarr,” Mercy defended her earnestly. “Got a fair an’ gen’rous heart.”
She felt a personal responsibility for the people in her employ, which was why she had inserted herself into the hunting party’s hazardous company. He glanced at the rotund maid whom she treated more like a dotty old aunt than a domestic. She had stood up for her people and her property and placed herself in harm’s way on their behalf.
The contents of his chest felt as if they were sinking toward his knees. Despite the pain in his hand, at that moment he’d have punched a thousand vile barons on her behalf…a few hundred M.P.s…sundry earls, marquesses and dukes…even a prince.
His heart stopped.
Dear God. What was he thinking?
That she was a woman of substance, of surprising depths, courage and conviction. That the prince truly had gotten a mistaken notion of her character, just as she’d said. And that he was partly responsible.
M ARIAH watched the play of strong emotions in Jack’s face and guessed that he was thinking about potential consequences.
“Might this get you into trouble?” she said, feeling a stir of guilt.
“An assault on a sitting member of parliament? Whatever gives you that idea?” he said with an edge, brushing at the water spots on his trousers. “Clapford has a vile temper, but I doubt he will make an issue of this.” She watched him reason it through and set aside his concern. “He won’t want a report of his conduct to get around. Though it probably wouldn’t come as a surprise to any who know him. Men don’t lash out in anger like that unless it is from habit.”
“So, he behaves that way as a normal course,” she said with dismay. “If that is the way he treats a woman he’s only just met, imagine what he has in store for the one who is legally
“A bit of advice, Clapford. Never raise your hand to a lady—especially one with highly placed friends. You would find mending a broken career a great deal harder than mending a broken nose.”
He stalked back to Mariah and ushered her and Mercy firmly to the coach, shouting to the driver to get underway.
No one spoke as the coach rattled down the ill-paved drive. As they made the turn onto the Cambridge Road, Mariah emerged from her shock enough to spring to the window for a look back. Mercy trampled on Jack’s toes to join her. Clapford was standing in the carriage turn, shaking a fist after them. When Mariah slid back into her seat, Jack was staring at her.
“You hit him,” she said in a shocked half whisper.
“I did. Yes.” He took a deep breath, set his hat aside, and started to remove his damp gloves.
“A right proper facer, sarr.” Mercy beamed fresh respect.
“He brought up a fist—I…I thought he was going to strike me,” Mariah said, still trying to grasp how such a calamitous string of events could have happened. “He very nearly did. Ifyou hadn’t—” She paused for breath and composure. “All I did was suggest he consider the health of his servants as important as that of his blessed fish…that he show a bit of common decency.”
“Expecting common decency from the nobility? ” Jack’s brows rose. “How eccentric of you.”
“It is not ridiculous to expect people of rank and responsibility to behave with reason and restraint.” She bristled. “Did you see those boys? As blue from bruises as they were from cold. Was I supposed to just stand there and let him thrash me the way he does his stable boys? Someone has to stand up to overprivileged bullies.”
“Does that someone always have to be you?” he countered irritably.
Of course it did.
It was part of who she was, he realized, somewhat rattled by the conclusion. Standing up to arrogant, overprivileged noblemen was exactly what she would do— what she had done that first night at the inn.
“She’s a good miztress, sarr,” Mercy defended her earnestly. “Got a fair an’ gen’rous heart.”
She felt a personal responsibility for the people in her employ, which was why she had inserted herself into the hunting party’s hazardous company. He glanced at the rotund maid whom she treated more like a dotty old aunt than a domestic. She had stood up for her people and her property and placed herself in harm’s way on their behalf.
The contents of his chest felt as if they were sinking toward his knees. Despite the pain in his hand, at that moment he’d have punched a thousand vile barons on her behalf…a few hundred M.P.s…sundry earls, marquesses and dukes…even a prince.
His heart stopped.
Dear God. What was he thinking?
That she was a woman of substance, of surprising depths, courage and conviction. That the prince truly had gotten a mistaken notion of her character, just as she’d said. And that he was partly responsible.
M ARIAH watched the play of strong emotions in Jack’s face and guessed that he was thinking about potential consequences.
“Might this get you into trouble?” she said, feeling a stir of guilt.
“An assault on a sitting member of parliament? Whatever gives you that idea?” he said with an edge, brushing at the water spots on his trousers. “Clapford has a vile temper, but I doubt he will make an issue of this.” She watched him reason it through and set aside his concern. “He won’t want a report of his conduct to get around. Though it probably wouldn’t come as a surprise to any who know him. Men don’t lash out in anger like that unless it is from habit.”
“So, he behaves that way as a normal course,” she said with dismay. “If that is the way he treats a woman he’s only just met, imagine what he has in store for the one who is legally
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