slippery ground.
"Poc, no!" Her words were drowned out in the press of the excited crowd, now all bypassing her to rush to the winner's circle, where wagers were being settled. She was being dragged in the opposite direction—until her foot hit a particularly deep puddle and she completely lost purchase. The leash slipped from her mud-slicked wrist and Poc was free. He flew after Bonbon with single-minded ardor, on a direct collision course with Cybill, who picked her way daintily across the puddle-strewn grounds, holding her yellow muslin skirts up with one hand, her parasol in the other.
"Bonbon, you've gotten your paws muddy, you bad girl," Cybill cried in high dudgeon just before she stepped into the path of the brindle cannonball. As she was knocked flailing into the quagmire, a series of highly inventive and most unladylike oaths tumbled from her pretty, pouty mouth.
Joss scrambled upon the debacle just as Poc and Bonbon dispensed with courtship preliminaries and got down to the serious business at hand. Cybill sat up on all fours in the mud, shaking her fist at the lovers. She peeled off her mud- soaked gloves and threw them down as she regained her footing. Joss had fared little better since her own skirts were sopped with muck up to her knees. Still, the sight of the elegant beauty covered head to toe with slime brought forth a smile, then a chuckle, and finally a full-throated laugh.
Seeing that Bonbon's virtue had already been hopelessly compromised, Cybill turned from the ungrateful little bitch and focused her wrath on the gauche ape-leading bluestocking who had the temerity to laugh at her. Violet eyes narrowed, she glared at Joss as she stood up and took a step—only to find her slipper had remained trapped in the ooze.
"I do apologize, Mrs. Chamberlain," Joss managed between hiccuping giggles, trying desperately to regain some small measure of decorum.
A low enraged snarl came from deep in Cybill's throat as she reached out for Joss. "How dare you," she gritted, her long fingers curled, ready to claw out Joss's eyes.
"See here, I did not intend—" Joss's protest was cut short as she was forced to defend herself against the onslaught by grabbing for Cybill's hands. It was like trying to hold a hurricane. Although nearly a foot shorter, Cybill was compactly built, weighing as much as her lesser endowed enemy. When she barreled into Joss, both women went down into the mud, kicking and pulling each other's hair as they rolled around.
The shrieking catfight quickly drew the attention of the crowd, which circled around them, placing wagers on the outcome. "Five pounds on Mrs. Chamberlain," one cock of the game called out. "Ten pounds says the long Meg beats her," another cried, rubbing his hands.
By the time Alex reached them, Chamberlain was between the two combatants, attempting to end the contest, which had gone decidedly in Joss's favor by virtue of her longer reach. Cybill's black hair hung in clots about her shoulders and the delicate muslin of her gown was torn in several places, revealing even more of her charms. The heavy gray worsted Joss wore remained unscathed but for a liberal coat of mud.
"Hardly Christian charity, Joss," Alex said with a chuckle as he placed one arm about her waist and swung her away from Cybill, who then collapsed in sobs on her husband's chest, smearing his splendid uniform with mud, much to his consternation.
The Chamberlains' angry remonstrances faded as Alex guided Joss away from the crowd. Poc, having had his way with the small fluffy Jezebel, trailed jauntily behind them, dragging his leash. "I realize Cybill is a bit less than civil. but did you have to exact such a harsh penalty?" he asked with amusement.
Joss hiccuped in silent misery, too humiliated to speak. She was covered with mud from head to foot and
"Poc, no!" Her words were drowned out in the press of the excited crowd, now all bypassing her to rush to the winner's circle, where wagers were being settled. She was being dragged in the opposite direction—until her foot hit a particularly deep puddle and she completely lost purchase. The leash slipped from her mud-slicked wrist and Poc was free. He flew after Bonbon with single-minded ardor, on a direct collision course with Cybill, who picked her way daintily across the puddle-strewn grounds, holding her yellow muslin skirts up with one hand, her parasol in the other.
"Bonbon, you've gotten your paws muddy, you bad girl," Cybill cried in high dudgeon just before she stepped into the path of the brindle cannonball. As she was knocked flailing into the quagmire, a series of highly inventive and most unladylike oaths tumbled from her pretty, pouty mouth.
Joss scrambled upon the debacle just as Poc and Bonbon dispensed with courtship preliminaries and got down to the serious business at hand. Cybill sat up on all fours in the mud, shaking her fist at the lovers. She peeled off her mud- soaked gloves and threw them down as she regained her footing. Joss had fared little better since her own skirts were sopped with muck up to her knees. Still, the sight of the elegant beauty covered head to toe with slime brought forth a smile, then a chuckle, and finally a full-throated laugh.
Seeing that Bonbon's virtue had already been hopelessly compromised, Cybill turned from the ungrateful little bitch and focused her wrath on the gauche ape-leading bluestocking who had the temerity to laugh at her. Violet eyes narrowed, she glared at Joss as she stood up and took a step—only to find her slipper had remained trapped in the ooze.
"I do apologize, Mrs. Chamberlain," Joss managed between hiccuping giggles, trying desperately to regain some small measure of decorum.
A low enraged snarl came from deep in Cybill's throat as she reached out for Joss. "How dare you," she gritted, her long fingers curled, ready to claw out Joss's eyes.
"See here, I did not intend—" Joss's protest was cut short as she was forced to defend herself against the onslaught by grabbing for Cybill's hands. It was like trying to hold a hurricane. Although nearly a foot shorter, Cybill was compactly built, weighing as much as her lesser endowed enemy. When she barreled into Joss, both women went down into the mud, kicking and pulling each other's hair as they rolled around.
The shrieking catfight quickly drew the attention of the crowd, which circled around them, placing wagers on the outcome. "Five pounds on Mrs. Chamberlain," one cock of the game called out. "Ten pounds says the long Meg beats her," another cried, rubbing his hands.
By the time Alex reached them, Chamberlain was between the two combatants, attempting to end the contest, which had gone decidedly in Joss's favor by virtue of her longer reach. Cybill's black hair hung in clots about her shoulders and the delicate muslin of her gown was torn in several places, revealing even more of her charms. The heavy gray worsted Joss wore remained unscathed but for a liberal coat of mud.
"Hardly Christian charity, Joss," Alex said with a chuckle as he placed one arm about her waist and swung her away from Cybill, who then collapsed in sobs on her husband's chest, smearing his splendid uniform with mud, much to his consternation.
The Chamberlains' angry remonstrances faded as Alex guided Joss away from the crowd. Poc, having had his way with the small fluffy Jezebel, trailed jauntily behind them, dragging his leash. "I realize Cybill is a bit less than civil. but did you have to exact such a harsh penalty?" he asked with amusement.
Joss hiccuped in silent misery, too humiliated to speak. She was covered with mud from head to foot and
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