Free Art and Artifice by Regina Scott Page A

into Ariadne in her haste to
move away, and Priscilla clutched her reticule closer. That was not
the right approach, Emily was certain. Bullies you had to face
down.
    “We have nothing for you,” she said, forcing
herself not to tremble. “Step aside and let us pass.”
    “Bossy little thing, ain’t you?” he grumbled,
straightening and narrowing his eyes. “If you’re such a fine lady,
where’s your escort then? Who’s to stop me from taking what I want,
from any of you lot?”
    “I am,” a voice said behind him, and Emily
caught her breath.
    The toothless behemoth swiveled, and Emily
saw James Cropper standing behind him, feet planted and arms at the
ready. He gave her his two-fingered salute before turning his frown
on the fellow.
    “Do as the lady says and step aside.”
    The creature easily had a stone’s weight on
Mr. Cropper, and she shuddered to think how his handsome face would
look after it met those grimy fists.
    The Bow Street Runner meant to protect her,
but perhaps he was the one who needed protection the most.
     
     

Chapter 7

    Jamie eyed the mountain in front of him. The
bulging veined nose said the fellow drank to excess, and he thought
he detected the least tremor in those once-mighty fists. He’d seen
the man’s like too many times growing up in Ratcliffe. In fact,
beggars, thieves, and no-accounts were no strangers to him. He met
the bully’s gaze straight on, one hand going to the truncheon at
his waist. So long as no more of the fellow’s friends showed up,
Jamie could hold his own.
    The beggar seemed to realize as much, or
perhaps he caught the flash of red from Jamie’s waistcoat. Either
way, he ducked his grizzled head and shuffled his feet. “Didn’t
mean no ‘arm, sir. ‘Ow was I to know the lady was with you?”
    “I’ll grant you you’ll not meet her likes in
the stews very often,” Jamie said, stepping around him and offering
Lady Emily his arm. “May I have the honor of escorting you
home?”
    He avoided her title and name. It wasn’t wise
to advertise either. In such a place, a duke’s daughter would fetch
a high ransom.
    But she didn’t seem convinced she was any
safer with him. As Jamie kept one eye on the beggar, Lady Emily
regarded his outstretched arm. He willed her to accept, considered
what he’d do if she refused. Pride that she’d followed Lord Robert
as easily as he had vied with concern for her safety.
    But scowling at her would surely do no good,
and he thought her friends at least were as worried for their lives
as he was. So he gentled his smile, gave Lady Emily a nod in
encouragement.
    She put her hand on his arm. “The honor is
all mine, sir.”
    “Sir, is it now?” The beggar chortled. “Since
when does a lady walk with the likes of you?”
    “When the lady is sufficiently gracious,”
Jamie said, steering her past him. “And so are her friends.” His
pointed look sent the other three girls scuttling in their
wake.
    Jamie thought the beggar would follow, but
he’d obviously realized Jamie’s calling as a Runner, for he shook
his shaggy head and moved away. Gaze wary, Jamie escorted Lady
Emily and her friends back down the street.
    She strolled along beside him as if they were
touring Hyde Park on a lovely spring afternoon. But she wasn’t
nearly as calm as she pretended. She walked so close her skirts
brushed his boots, and her fingers were so firmly attached to his
arm, he wasn’t sure she’d ever let go. She cast him a quick glance,
but he tugged his hat down lower over his eyes so she couldn’t
catch a glimpse of them. He rather thought her own gaze was far too
knowing. She’d see right through him, and then where would they
be?
    But the others appeared to be regarding him
just as fixedly. He’d done a little research, and he was fairly
sure the beautiful blonde was Miss Priscilla Tate, niece to the
Countess of Brentfield. She had settled in on his opposite side, as
if just as loath to be alone in this place. Her gaze roamed