Free Wicked Godmother by MC Beaton Page A

watching the aristocracy riding in the Row.
    Beauty, plodding beside her, felt the warm sun on his coat. He cautiously shook his head. There was no pain at all. He gave it a tremendous shake. Not only was he free of that sharp, stabbing pain, but he could once again hear perfectly. His stomach gave a healthy canine rumble. He was hungry and this human beside him smelled deliciously of marrow bone. Slowly, his ridiculous plume of a tail curled up over his back. Up came his head, and his wicked little bearlike eyes roamed about, looking for trouble.
    Unaware of the metamorphosis that was going on somewhere down about knee-level, Lizzie continued on in the direction of the park, enjoying the soft luxurious sensation given by a pair of new leather shoes. When Rainbird had received the glad tidings of the servants’ increase in wages, he had not been so far lost in fantasies about Felice to neglect to reward the staff. Alice and Jenny were given silk ribbons; Mrs Middleton, a new cap. Dave got a new leather waistcoat; Joseph, a silk handkerchief; and Angus MacGregor, a new Sheffield-steel carving knife. And Lizzie, who had worn nothing but clogs before, was given a pair of shiny black-leather shoes with cheap tin buckles.
    Lizzie was very religious, and the Lord her God was a terrible God, always just up there on the clouds waiting to blast the vain sinner. Later on, when she thought of the terrible events of that morning, Lizzie was sure He had punished her for her False Pride.
    She crossed Park Lane and made her way into Hyde Park. The trees were covered in a delicate haze of green, and the scent from the blossom on the cherry trees made her head swim deliciously. She bent down and slipped Beauty’s leash, unwrapped the marrow bone and gave it to him, spread her shawl on the grass near the Row, and sat down. MacGregor had given Lizzie the wrong bone. The one he had given her had been set aside to make stock and still had a large piece of meat attached to it. Beauty gnawed and tore at it, feeling the warmth of the meat descending to his thin belly, feeling the sun on his coat, occasionally shaking his head to make sure the dreadful pain had gone.
    He licked the last piece of marrow from the bone and then rolled over and laid his head on Lizzie’s lap and gazed up at her with eyes moist with love. For surely this goddess was responsible for his well-being. Lizzie carelessly stroked his narrow head, thinking what a mean, ill-favoured beast he was and wondering how anyone as beautiful and dainty as Miss Metcalf could own such a pet. Miss Metcalf, mused Lizzie, who had only seen her once, was so pretty and sweet that she reminded you of all the good safe things in life, like spring flowers and new bread, honey from the comb and strong tea – those being the things the little scullery maid held most dear next to Joseph.
    The Row had been empty, as few of the fashionables stirred from their bed before noon.
    Then Lizzie heard the thud of horses’ hooves and looked up. Two people, a man and a woman, came galloping down the Row. Lizzie had a quick impression of a tall handsome man and a pretty woman in a scarlet riding habit before disaster struck. Beauty’s ruff went up, and he was off like a shot, snapping and snarling at the heels of the lady’s horse, which reared in fright and tossed her from its back. The gentleman reined in his own mount and leapt down. Lizzie rushed forward and grabbed the snarling and growling Beauty, leashed him, tied him to a sapling, and then miserably ran forward to where the gentleman was kneeling beside the lady.
    A pair of furious hazel eyes glared into her own and a voice like ice said, ‘Cannot you control your dog?’ He turned to the lady and said, ‘Are you hurt, Belinda?’
    The lady called Belinda said waspishly, ‘No, I am not, and no thanks to this vulgar creature here. Call the watch, Huntingdon, and have her dragged off to the round-house.’
    Lizzie’s eyes dilated with fright, and