close to me or
you might be trampled to death."
Emily
ignored his plea as the crowd began to roar with glee when the woman dropped
the boa. From the corner of her eye she saw Jared reach out for her, but she
shrugged away. A rude man who smelled of manure stepped between them.
Jared
cursed, pushing the man aside. She found herself jostled back and forth like a
small fish in the ocean. People stepped on her toes and pulled at her cloak,
shoving her aside so they could obtain a better view. Strands of hair fell
across her face, and she barely heard Jared shouting as he pushed through the
frenzied crowd.
But she
was numb. Too numb to care anymore. There was a dreadful squeezing inside her
chest, and she found it hard to breathe. He did not love her. He had never
loved her.
"Emily!
Confound it . . . Emily!"
She
wanted to call to him, but every fiber in her being warned against it. He would
see her heart exposed like that of a wounded puppy. How droll for him to be her
protector until her brothers found a suitable husband. She decided to ride to
London immediately, relieving herself of his presence.
"Emily,"
he shouted again, but she let the crowd push her farther and farther away. Her
cloak was pulled to and fro, and she drifted like a boat without a sail in the
sea of people.
More
flaming torches seemed to be added to the juggling partners. The flames
whooshed through the air with fiery streaks of red, snapping small sparks into
the crowd.
"Add
another torch!" someone cried.
"Light
the purple boa!"
The
clamor of the people hammered into Emily's ears. A hard shove sent her flying
into another man. Her head snapped back, and she thought she saw Jared coming
toward her. Suddenly, awakened to the danger surrounding her, she fell to the
ground in pain, trying to fend off the people above her. Before she could shout
for help, there was a sharp jab to her stomach.
And then
it happened. The most frightening word she would ever hear in an already
maddened crowd. "Fire!"
Chapter Six
M iss Agatha Appleby's pink-and-white-striped
bonnet bobbed up and down as she took a seat on a small barrel of ale located
inside one of the vendors' tents. She unbuttoned her matching cloak, grabbed
the mug beside her, and bent down, siphoning a bit of the brew to replace what
she had already drunk.
"I
daresay, Jane"—she picked up a steaming meat pie with her free hand and took
a bite—"is this not the most delightful pie you have ever had?"
Garbed
in a black velvet cloak, Jane leaned against a tent pole, her lips twisting
into a pleased smile. "You say those exact words about every meat pie,
Aunt Agatha. I recall when my parents brought me to my last fair. I will never
forget the sweet scent of hot cross buns."
A sad
look crossed her face, and she shook her head. "Speaking of food, Emily
must be famished."
"Fustian,
child. The girl is fine." Agatha took another bite of her meat pie. "Believe
me, those two children need to work out their differences."
Jane
pushed off the pole and laughed. "I would not call Cousin Jared a
child."
Agatha
slowly raised her head, her eyebrows lifting suggestively. "And neither is
our Emily, dear."
Jane's
eyes went wide. "You are not implying that Emily and my guardian are
engaged?"
"Engaged,
no. Smitten, yes."
"You
think there was something to that incident today."
"No,
no, my dear," Agatha replied, shaking her head. "That was totally
innocent. But what is not innocent is Emily's eyes when she watches my nephew
walk into the room."
Jane
pursed her lips, surprised. "I was only making a jest about them before.
He is—"
"He
is a man first, Jane," Agatha said. "A man with a heart that needs
softening."
"But
Cousin Jared never seems to need anybody. Oh, I know he cares for me, but he is
so much more reserved than the young man I knew when I was a child." Jane
frowned as more people began to gather near the tent and the noisy display of
the vendors grew louder.
Agatha
pointed to the other side of
you might be trampled to death."
Emily
ignored his plea as the crowd began to roar with glee when the woman dropped
the boa. From the corner of her eye she saw Jared reach out for her, but she
shrugged away. A rude man who smelled of manure stepped between them.
Jared
cursed, pushing the man aside. She found herself jostled back and forth like a
small fish in the ocean. People stepped on her toes and pulled at her cloak,
shoving her aside so they could obtain a better view. Strands of hair fell
across her face, and she barely heard Jared shouting as he pushed through the
frenzied crowd.
But she
was numb. Too numb to care anymore. There was a dreadful squeezing inside her
chest, and she found it hard to breathe. He did not love her. He had never
loved her.
"Emily!
Confound it . . . Emily!"
She
wanted to call to him, but every fiber in her being warned against it. He would
see her heart exposed like that of a wounded puppy. How droll for him to be her
protector until her brothers found a suitable husband. She decided to ride to
London immediately, relieving herself of his presence.
"Emily,"
he shouted again, but she let the crowd push her farther and farther away. Her
cloak was pulled to and fro, and she drifted like a boat without a sail in the
sea of people.
More
flaming torches seemed to be added to the juggling partners. The flames
whooshed through the air with fiery streaks of red, snapping small sparks into
the crowd.
"Add
another torch!" someone cried.
"Light
the purple boa!"
The
clamor of the people hammered into Emily's ears. A hard shove sent her flying
into another man. Her head snapped back, and she thought she saw Jared coming
toward her. Suddenly, awakened to the danger surrounding her, she fell to the
ground in pain, trying to fend off the people above her. Before she could shout
for help, there was a sharp jab to her stomach.
And then
it happened. The most frightening word she would ever hear in an already
maddened crowd. "Fire!"
Chapter Six
M iss Agatha Appleby's pink-and-white-striped
bonnet bobbed up and down as she took a seat on a small barrel of ale located
inside one of the vendors' tents. She unbuttoned her matching cloak, grabbed
the mug beside her, and bent down, siphoning a bit of the brew to replace what
she had already drunk.
"I
daresay, Jane"—she picked up a steaming meat pie with her free hand and took
a bite—"is this not the most delightful pie you have ever had?"
Garbed
in a black velvet cloak, Jane leaned against a tent pole, her lips twisting
into a pleased smile. "You say those exact words about every meat pie,
Aunt Agatha. I recall when my parents brought me to my last fair. I will never
forget the sweet scent of hot cross buns."
A sad
look crossed her face, and she shook her head. "Speaking of food, Emily
must be famished."
"Fustian,
child. The girl is fine." Agatha took another bite of her meat pie. "Believe
me, those two children need to work out their differences."
Jane
pushed off the pole and laughed. "I would not call Cousin Jared a
child."
Agatha
slowly raised her head, her eyebrows lifting suggestively. "And neither is
our Emily, dear."
Jane's
eyes went wide. "You are not implying that Emily and my guardian are
engaged?"
"Engaged,
no. Smitten, yes."
"You
think there was something to that incident today."
"No,
no, my dear," Agatha replied, shaking her head. "That was totally
innocent. But what is not innocent is Emily's eyes when she watches my nephew
walk into the room."
Jane
pursed her lips, surprised. "I was only making a jest about them before.
He is—"
"He
is a man first, Jane," Agatha said. "A man with a heart that needs
softening."
"But
Cousin Jared never seems to need anybody. Oh, I know he cares for me, but he is
so much more reserved than the young man I knew when I was a child." Jane
frowned as more people began to gather near the tent and the noisy display of
the vendors grew louder.
Agatha
pointed to the other side of
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