Free Falling in Love Again by Cathy Maxwell

Briery Bush”
    â€œT hat’s impossible!” The steel edge in John’s voice could have commanded battalions on a battlefield, but it had little effect on the Runner. Mallory understood John’s anger. Such a public humiliation was practically unheard of—unless the charges were true and John was bankrupt.
    â€œThat’s not what they say, my lord.” The Runner nodded toward the people closing in around the coach. “Now, if you will come with me, I’ve been hired to take you to the Magistrate.”
    From the back of the crowd, a man’s deep bass voice boomed, “Wait there—just one minute!”
    Every head turned. A heavy-set man in a caped great coat and wide cocked hat, and carrying a tallwalking stick with an air of authority, pushed through the crowd. “Clear the way! Bailiff of the Court with court orders.”
    A host of people followed him like tiny boats in the wake of a big ship. These newcomers were a better attired class of people, although they’d obviously dressed in haste. One man still wore his nightcap under his top hat.
    Confronting the bailiff, the Runner spread his jacket to show off his red waistcoat. “You may not have Lord Craige right now. He is to appear before Bow Street.”
    The bailiff waved a dismissive hand. “You may have the man. I’ve come for the house and contents. We’ll be auctioning them to pay off Lord Craige’s debts to these men.”
    With a quiet, “Stay here,” to Mallory, John stepped down from the coach’s footboard and closed the coach door. “I couldn’t possibly owe them money,” he said, aristocratic disdain etched in every line of his face. “I’ve never set eyes on a one of them.”
    The bailiff’s eyes narrowed to piggish slits. “They’re moneylenders, my lord. They know their business.”
    John had borrowed from moneylenders? Mallory sat up on the seat in shock. Only a fool would pay their exorbitant interest—or a man desperate for money.
    â€œThe devil you say!” John exclaimed. “I would never leave my mark with sharks.”
    The moneylenders muttered angrily among themselves. The man in his nightcap shoved his way forward to stand in front of the bailiff. “Youmay turn up your high-and-mighty nose at our business, my lord, but you used our money and you knew the terms.”
    â€œI have never used a moneylender,” John said, his voice tight with anger.
    The moneylender shook his head. “Your agent, Mr. Barron, handled the loans. I have papers to prove it, including copies of your signature giving him authority to act on your behalf.” The man matched John’s proud look with pride of his own. “Isaiah Benjamin conducts himself honorably and fairly in business and expects you to pay the debts!” A chorus of agreement met the man’s words.
    John’s anger melted to surprise. “Louis Barron worked with moneylenders?”
    â€œFor years, my lord, and we’ve been happy to extend you the credit,” another moneylender replied. “Now we’ve come for our money.”
    â€œAye. We want our money,” came several shouts of agreement.
    â€œStarting with this fine and fancy coach,” someone cried.
    John raised his arms, his height commanding attention. “I will pay my creditors,” he announced firmly.
    That statement sent the bailiff’s eyebrows up to his hairline. “You can do that, my lord?”
    â€œCertainly,” John said with authority. “What is the amount?”
    â€œNinety-eight thousand pounds, with the interest calculated in.”
    Mallory fell back on the leather seat. The enormity of the figure confounded her imagination. Ninety-eight thousand pounds! Dear Lord, certainly even the Regent himself didn’t have that kind of money. Debtor’s Court would claim everything John owned to meet the debt. Craige Castle was lost.