Free Rivals in the City by Y. S. Lee Page A

good house with comfortable furniture and cheerful company. Rufus Alleyn was a genuinely interesting chap, a physician who chose to work amongst the poor of London’s East End. The Ringleys were exerting themselves to talk of subjects other than hat trimmings and the weather. And Mrs Vine’s dinner menu was both delicious and bountiful. Yet the persistent ache in his ribs was a nagging reminder of the dangers just outside. James kept glancing at the clock on the mantel, wondering how rapidly he could shoo them all out of the house.
    George had taken charge of the seating and placed James between the two eligible Ringley girls. Of course, thought James: Alleyn was invited to balance out the number of gentlemen, as well as the conversation. The Miss Ringleys were agreeable girls, comfortable, lace-trimmed bundles of dimples and ringlets, distinguishable only by their ribbons: Miss Polly’s dress was trimmed in pink, Miss Harriet’s in yellow. They were flatteringly, almost alarmingly, riveted by everything he said. James felt quite certain that if he observed that the night was dark, both would turn their fascinated gazes upon him and breathe, “Oh, how very true!” If only they felt free to speak their minds, he thought, this evening would be more enjoyable.
    But enjoyable or not, it was a risk that made him feel stupid and culpable. He ought to have remembered the dinner party and insisted that George cancel it. He had been so miserably absorbed in his own difficulties – Mary, the Bank of England, the assault – that he’d not paused to consider the danger to which he was now exposing their guests. If Mrs Thorold was indeed on his trail, she might try to revenge herself by hurting those dear to him. George, the Ringleys and Rufus Alleyn were all part of his observable orbit this evening. He could only pray that they went unscathed, no thanks to him and his appalling selfishness.
    Miss Polly Ringley broke his train of thought by angling her body towards him – close enough that he was suddenly, intensely aware of the rose perfume rising from her wine-warmed skin – and murmured, “Have you been to any interesting concerts or lectures in recent days, Mr Easton?”
    “Why, yes,” he replied, after a brief hesitation. “This past weekend, I went to Leicester Square to see a Chinese pugilist.”
    She was already smiling with expectation but his words caused her to blink and pause. “I beg your pardon, did you say ‘pugilist’?”
    “I did.” To his left, he heard Miss Harriet squeak with anxiety. “It was most instructive. I’d no idea it was possible to spar so effectively with both hands and feet.”
    The Miss Ringleys might have been lost for words, but Rufus Alleyn, sitting on Miss Polly’s other side, immediately leant forward. “I say, did you? I was called out on Saturday night to patch up a fellow who was unlucky enough to have challenged the Chinaman. Quite a job, it was. His right hand was so terribly smashed up that I was forced to—”
    Miss Polly looked dismayed. “Mr Alleyn, I fear that my sister is of a delicate disposition…”
    “I do beg your pardon, Miss Polly,” said Rufus, smoothly. “I’m afraid I allowed my professional enthusiasm to carry me away. I won’t go into the unsavoury details, but it was a long ordeal for my patient. Vicious little rat, that Chinese must have been. Or perhaps ‘rat’ is too small an animal. ‘Terrier’, maybe?”
    James couldn’t suppress his irritation. “Why not simply ‘man’ or ‘fighter’?”
    Rufus looked blank. “Well, they’re a smaller race…”
    “They are still people. Certainly, they are more like us than they are like animals.”
    “If you like,” said Rufus, clearly trying to humour James’s sudden ill temper. “I didn’t mean anything by it, dear fellow.”
    James ground his teeth together. “I know.” He looked around the table at all the merry pink-and-white faces and thought briefly, bleakly, of Mary. She’d