Free Mayhem in Bath by Sandra Heath Page A

away. He was angry, and vowed never to approach her again, but he couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder. Her lustrous gaze was upon him, and she gave him another of her yearning seductive smiles. Once again his emotions were in turmoil. He didn’t know where he was with her! A prisoner of his worshipping heart, he found himself a table from where he could watch as she and the marquess sipped from each other’s glasses, and gazed into each other’s eyes. Dominic knew he was only torturing himself, but he simply couldn’t help it. Where Lady Georgiana Mersenrie was concerned, he had no will of his own.
    At that moment, Polly and her uncle were arriving at the colonnade that separated the abbey yard and Pump Room from the Bath street. Polly was deep in thought, for as the carriage had driven around the comer past Zuder’s, she had observed a very strange scene inside. The assistants, and Herr Zuder himself, recognizable by his famous goatee beard and waxed mustache, had been gathered around a table close to the window. Scratching their heads and looking generally puzzled, they were clearly discussing something as mystifying to them as the overnight events in the Royal Crescent mews. Bells rang in Polly’s head. Bodkin! Had the brownie recommenced his comfort gorging? She would have to make a point of calling at the shop on the return to the crescent.
    She was aroused from her thoughts as the carriage halted, and with much groaning and complaining, Hordwell allowed himself to be helped down by two of the Pump Room’s footmen. She climbed down as well, but her uncle hadn’t shuffled more than a few yards on his walking sticks when he declared he must secure one of the wheelchairs that stood in line for hire. Polly was dismayed, for the chairs looked cumbersome to push, and she wasn’t exactly muscular, but Hordwell didn’t consider her at all as he plumped himself in the nearest one. He placed his walking sticks rather awkwardly across his lap, then gazed serenely ahead as the wheelchair man held out his hand for payment. With a sigh, Polly reached into her reticule, produced the necessary coins, and then began to push the unwieldy chair toward the Pump Room door.
    Her dismay increased tenfold when she saw the enormous crowd squeezed inside. She wanted to deposit Hordwell at a suitable table, and then proceed alone to the counter for his first glass of water, but he would not hear of it. Nothing would do but that she pushed him to the counter so that he could ask himself. Resignedly, she began to push him forward, apologizing to left and right as his walking sticks prodded various persons on the way. She passed Dominic without noticing him, nor did he notice her, for his eyes were fixed upon Georgiana. At the counter, Polly glanced momentarily at Georgiana, whose orange togs were perhaps the most modish in the room. She didn’t know Georgiana was Lord Benjamin’s sister, not that it would have made any difference to the ensuing fracas.
    It started as Hordwell was handed his glass, and Polly turned the wheelchair toward a free table she’d noticed nearby. The dreaded walking sticks jabbed Georgiana’s elegant posterior, and with a startled shriek, that lady whirled about, lost her balance, and fell against the marquess, who in turn fell against the counter. The pyramids of glasses went crashing, and in the ensuing shocked moments the only sound was Georgiana’s hysterical shrieking. Every eye in the room was directed toward the scene, and Polly felt so dreadful that she could only stand there with her hands pressed to her crimson cheeks.
    In a trice Dominic was on his feet to rush to Georgiana’s rescue. He pushed past Polly and in order to stretch out a hand to his beloved, stepped over the marquess, who had been dazed by one of the falling glasses. As Georgiana’s trembling little fingers closed gratefully over Dominic’s, and as he drew her to her feet, he flung a furious glance at Hordwell. “Have you no