His Lordship's Filly by Nina Coombs Pykare Page B

and her body even more in tune with the stallion’s than usual.
    Life, she thought as they headed the horses back through the crowded streets toward the great house, life was very good. Papa was safe. She had Waterloo. And being married to Andrew was better, much better, than she could ever have imagined.
    “Flowers?” a thin voice piped. “Buy me wild flowers? Picked fresh this morning.”
    Bridget looked down. A waif stood there—a little girl in dirty gray rags, her greasy blond hair straggling down around her pale pinched face. Just a slip of a thing. And so young.
    Waterloo reached out, nipping a mouthful of flowers from the proffered nosegay. “ ‘Ere now!” the waif cried. “You stop it. You can’t have me flowers less’n the lady buys ‘em first.”
    Bridget smiled. The child was small, but she faced up without fear to the great stallion.
    “Yer a pretty ‘orse,” she said. “But I gots to eat, too. And flowers won’t do fer me.”
    She held up the now-lopsided nosegay. “Flowers, milady? Fresh-picked flowers.”
    Bridget reached in her pocket, then realized she’d brought no coins with her. “I’ve no money with me today,” she said. “But I’ll have some tomorrow.”
    She saw hope leaving the child’s eyes. “I pass here every morning,” she went on.
    The child nodded. “I seen you.” She reached out a dirty hand and stroked the great horse’s nose. “Seen ‘im, too.”
    “Yes,” Bridget said. “Now, I’ll have a nosegay from you every day. Maybe two. If you’re here when I pass.”
    The child smiled then. “Oh, I’ll be ‘ere, milady. This ‘ere’s me corner. I’m ‘ere ever day.” She stepped aside. “And thank ‘ee.”
    Bridget clicked to the stallion and he headed on homeward, Ned trailing behind. She tried to think of other things, but the child’s face had looked so pinched. She was hungry, poor thing, and maybe even cold.
    By the time they’d reached home, Bridget had made up her mind. She swung down from the stallion and turned to the boy. “Take care of him,” she told Ned. “But don’t unsaddle your horse. I’m going into the house to get some coins. I want you to take them back to that little girl.” She had an awful thought. “You can find her again, can’t you?”
    Ned nodded. “Aye, milady, I ‘members the corner.”
    She started toward the door. “I’ll get several coins.” Thank goodness Papa had always been generous with her. She had a small store of money put away. “She looked so hungry.”
    “Yer Ladyship,” Ned said, his voice gone strained.
    Bridget turned. “Yes?”
    “ ‘Er da—or whatever ‘e is—’e’ll take money. Prob’ly spend it on blue ruin—gin. Be better to send ‘er a bun or a bit a meat extra. I can tell ‘er to eat it while she’s selling.”
    “Of course, Ned! That’s the way to do it.” Bridget gave him a big smile. “I’ll have Cook fix something. And I’ll get the coins.” She clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re a good boy, Ned, a really good boy. I’m lucky you’re here.”
    The boy’s face went crimson and he turned away mumbling, “I’d best take care a the stallion now.”
    * * * *
    When Ned returned an hour later, Bridget had washed and changed into her day gown, and gone back to the stable to wait with Waterloo. The familiar smells and sounds gave her comfort that no place else could. It had always been that way. As a tiny little girl she’d found the stable her favorite hiding place.
    A noise by the door made her look up. Thank goodness, the waiting was over. “Did you find her?” she asked anxiously.
    Ned grinned, twisting his cap between his hands. “Aye, milady, that I did. She were on ‘er corner, just like she said. She give me these two—prettiest nosegays she ‘ad.” He held them out.
    Bridget raised them to her nose and sniffed. “They smell wonderful. Tell me everything that happened.”
    Ned nodded. “Well, yer Ladyship, when she saw that great chunk a meat