Free A Christmas Gambol by Joan Smith Page A

ease. A scuffle ensued. Cicely raised the cane but the ruffians jerked about so quickly she couldn’t be sure of striking them without hurting Fairly.
    After a short tussle, the larger man said, “All right. You can pass, but we’ll keep an eye out for you another time.”
    Cicely was quite simply astonished that the two brutes caved in so quickly. “Let us go,” she said, pulling at Fairly’s coattails as he shouted brave abuse at the fleeing scoundrels.
    “You have only to be firm with them,” he said, his chest swelling.
    As they hurried back to their waiting carriage, John Groom shouted to Fairly. “Here, milord! There’s another pair of the rascals.” As he spoke, he scrambled down from his perch, raising his horsewhip.
    The second pair came as a dreadful surprise to Fairly. They had not been arranged for in advance. His heart quaked to see they were every bit as big and strong as the bruisers, and with mean faces besides. Fairly had the slight advantage as one of them was entering the carriage. He grabbed him by his collar and swung him around. As the man turned, his right hand rose, bunched into a fist, with which he landed Fairly a facer. Fairly went sprawling in the dust, blood spouting from his nose. The man made a quick lunge at his pockets.
    “Help, Hawkins!” Fairly called weakly to his groom.
    The groom advanced, lashing his horsewhip. It was not until then Cicely noticed that the other man had gotten into the carriage and was emerging with her reticule and Meg’s bonnet in his left hand. She lifted the malacca cane and aimed it at the side of his head.
    “Take that, villain!” she exclaimed, snatching at her reticule. It fell open and the contents scattered in the dust, just as Hawkins snapped his whip over the second man’s shoulder.
    “Well done, mistress!” Hawkins congratulated her.
    The pair of attackers took to their heels, one of them still holding Cicely’s reticule and Meg’s bonnet. She had lost her reticule, but John Groom gathered up her belongings from the street as she tended to Fairly’s bloodied nose.
    “I told you we shouldn’t get out of the carriage,” she scolded. “Does it hurt very much?”
    Fairly held his handkerchief to his nose, with his head back, as Cicely and the groom herded him into his carriage.
    “It’s a good thing the young lady kept her wits about her, or you would have lost your purse,” Hawkins said, shaking his head at Fairly’s stupidity in coming here.
    “Drive home at once,” Cicely said.
    “Bow Street is just around the corner,” he advised her.
    “What is the point of notifying Bow Street? Fairly will only look a fool for having got out of the carriage. No doubt there are hundreds of ruffians matching the description of those who attacked us. Just get us home.”
    “Aye, aye, mistress,” Hawkins replied and jumped up to his perch. With another crack of his whip, they were off.
    “I am terribly sorry this happened, Fairly,” Cicely said. “It was really foolish of you to go on foot amid such men. But you were right about it being excellent for my research. I see now that these fellows work in pairs. One crew keeps you busy while another rifles your carriage. It’s shameful that men are sunk to this sort of life. You should do something about it in Parliament.”
    This was not what Fairly had expected to hear, but he heard a deal more of the same as he was driven home with his aching nose ignominiously buried in his handkerchief.
    “It is really not right that such poverty is allowed to exist cheek by jowl with such wealth,” Cicely continued as they proceeded along Piccadilly. “Men having to rob to feed their families, while people like you enjoy a second dinner at an expensive hotel. I shall mention it to Montaigne. He is active in the House.”
    It was another blow to Fairly’s pride that Montaigne was seen as the gentleman to do something about the situation.
    “I shall certainly have a word about this with my member of