"I'd say you'd
best take him with you."
"Yes, sir," cried the boy, beaming.
The peddler tapped Stephen on his shoulder. "Hey gov,
you can't do that."
Stephen reacted instantly. He grabbed the man by the
collar of his threadbare jacket, twisting the fabric tightly to
effectively cut off the flow of oxygen. "It seems I just did.
Now listen well, my misguided chap. I would like nothing
better than to knock a tooth or two from your mouth. However, I shall refrain. In the future, I recommend you pick on
someone your own size rather than women, young boys or
neglected animals."
With that, Stephen discarded the peddler like a piece of
rubbish and gathered his horse. Looking at the peddler,
who lay on the ground gasping for air, Stephen wished the
man had lashed out. He wanted desperately to punch
someone. After tying his horse to the rear of Elizabeth and
Phoebe's carriage, he climbed aboard, sitting opposite the
two women. He leaned back in the seat and crossed his
arms, silently demanding an explanation.
Phoebe matched his glare with one of her own. "What
have you done with the boy?"
"I sent him to my home."
"Whatever for?"
He watched her eyes narrow suspiciously, her expression certainly more wary than a moment ago. What the
devil was she thinking now? "The boy will send for his mother and sister, then I shall move them all to one of my
estates to work. Satisfied?"
"Yes, actually. Now, am I to thank you for publicly
humiliating me?"
Lord, he wanted to strangle the woman. One moment
she endangered herself while making a public spectacle,
next she blamed him for her behavior. "Of course not. You
managed to do that all by yourself. I should be pleased.
Your behavior today likely weighted my suit by at least a
stone. I think an apology on your part might be appropriate."
"Fiddle-faddle, you arrogant--"
"Phoebe," cried a startled Elizabeth.
Stephen's voice remained aloof, distant. "It's quite all
right, Elizabeth. I'm curious to hear what she has to say."
Leaning forward, her face a lovely rosy pink, Phoebe
asked, "Would you have me sit and watch a boy be
whipped?"
Stephen leaned forward as well, his nose a mere fraction
from hers. "I would have you use that lovely head of yours
for something other than sporting a hat. I would have you
remain safe."
"Like all the other cowards who sat in their carriages
and watched a man as big as a bale of cotton beat a young
boy?"
"Truly, Stephen," Elizabeth added, her gloved hand
softly nudging his arm. "No one seemed overly concerned
with the boy's predicament other than the fact that he
delayed their arrival at the race."
"Save your explanation for Winston. I'm sure he'll have
an opinion or two on the matter."
Phoebe lifted her chin toward the sky. "Good heavens,
leave Elizabeth out of this." She turned back toward
Stephen, her eyes closed, obviously struggling to maintain
a handle on her emotions. "I know the feeling of unjust punishment, being alone to face it. That boy did not
deserve to be whipped. Neither did that poor animal. I've
felt the sting of a lash, felt the pain. I know the brand it
leaves."
That last bit of news spawned an unexpected wave of
tenderness, dwarfing Stephen's anger. The desire to lecture
vanished. Instead, he wanted to relieve her of her clothes,
discover the heinous mark and kiss any lingering memories away. He rubbed his hand over his face. "I understand
your reason for interfering. I even admire your fortitude.
God knows few people are willing to stand up for what is
right, but you must think before you plunge into something
such as this. You could have been injured. And what do you
propose to tell your aunt when word of this rumpus
spreads? I assure you, gossip will fly from mouth to mouth
faster than a plague on an infected ship."
Before she turned away to watch the activity surrounding them, a sigh heavy with acceptance slid from Phoebe's
mouth. "I know."
Everyone fell silent. Stephen
best take him with you."
"Yes, sir," cried the boy, beaming.
The peddler tapped Stephen on his shoulder. "Hey gov,
you can't do that."
Stephen reacted instantly. He grabbed the man by the
collar of his threadbare jacket, twisting the fabric tightly to
effectively cut off the flow of oxygen. "It seems I just did.
Now listen well, my misguided chap. I would like nothing
better than to knock a tooth or two from your mouth. However, I shall refrain. In the future, I recommend you pick on
someone your own size rather than women, young boys or
neglected animals."
With that, Stephen discarded the peddler like a piece of
rubbish and gathered his horse. Looking at the peddler,
who lay on the ground gasping for air, Stephen wished the
man had lashed out. He wanted desperately to punch
someone. After tying his horse to the rear of Elizabeth and
Phoebe's carriage, he climbed aboard, sitting opposite the
two women. He leaned back in the seat and crossed his
arms, silently demanding an explanation.
Phoebe matched his glare with one of her own. "What
have you done with the boy?"
"I sent him to my home."
"Whatever for?"
He watched her eyes narrow suspiciously, her expression certainly more wary than a moment ago. What the
devil was she thinking now? "The boy will send for his mother and sister, then I shall move them all to one of my
estates to work. Satisfied?"
"Yes, actually. Now, am I to thank you for publicly
humiliating me?"
Lord, he wanted to strangle the woman. One moment
she endangered herself while making a public spectacle,
next she blamed him for her behavior. "Of course not. You
managed to do that all by yourself. I should be pleased.
Your behavior today likely weighted my suit by at least a
stone. I think an apology on your part might be appropriate."
"Fiddle-faddle, you arrogant--"
"Phoebe," cried a startled Elizabeth.
Stephen's voice remained aloof, distant. "It's quite all
right, Elizabeth. I'm curious to hear what she has to say."
Leaning forward, her face a lovely rosy pink, Phoebe
asked, "Would you have me sit and watch a boy be
whipped?"
Stephen leaned forward as well, his nose a mere fraction
from hers. "I would have you use that lovely head of yours
for something other than sporting a hat. I would have you
remain safe."
"Like all the other cowards who sat in their carriages
and watched a man as big as a bale of cotton beat a young
boy?"
"Truly, Stephen," Elizabeth added, her gloved hand
softly nudging his arm. "No one seemed overly concerned
with the boy's predicament other than the fact that he
delayed their arrival at the race."
"Save your explanation for Winston. I'm sure he'll have
an opinion or two on the matter."
Phoebe lifted her chin toward the sky. "Good heavens,
leave Elizabeth out of this." She turned back toward
Stephen, her eyes closed, obviously struggling to maintain
a handle on her emotions. "I know the feeling of unjust punishment, being alone to face it. That boy did not
deserve to be whipped. Neither did that poor animal. I've
felt the sting of a lash, felt the pain. I know the brand it
leaves."
That last bit of news spawned an unexpected wave of
tenderness, dwarfing Stephen's anger. The desire to lecture
vanished. Instead, he wanted to relieve her of her clothes,
discover the heinous mark and kiss any lingering memories away. He rubbed his hand over his face. "I understand
your reason for interfering. I even admire your fortitude.
God knows few people are willing to stand up for what is
right, but you must think before you plunge into something
such as this. You could have been injured. And what do you
propose to tell your aunt when word of this rumpus
spreads? I assure you, gossip will fly from mouth to mouth
faster than a plague on an infected ship."
Before she turned away to watch the activity surrounding them, a sigh heavy with acceptance slid from Phoebe's
mouth. "I know."
Everyone fell silent. Stephen
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