Free The Original Miss Honeyford by M.C. Beaton Page A

stout rope. Honey was rescued. And now she was sitting on the floor at his feet and all he wanted to do was shake her until her teeth rattled.
    “Do you know you were nearly killed?” he said furiously. “Don’t you—”
    He broke off as Honey struggled to her feet. “Give me the rope,” she cried. “My servants! Oh, Jem and Abraham and Peter.”
    “Find them first,” said Lord Alistair curtly, pointing to the window.
    Honey leaned out, desperately searching the street below. “Jem,” she cried. “He is there. He must have been quite close to me. Hurry! He is sore pressed, and Abraham and Peter are with him.”
    Lord Alistair and Ben lowered the rope carefully until it was dangling in front of Jem’s face. Like Honey, he seized it, but, as he was being dragged clear above the crowd, Abraham grabbed his boots and held tightly.
    Lord Alistair had removed his coat, and, in the middle of all her fear for the safety of her servants, Honey could not help noticing with surprise how his muscles bulged under the thin cambric of his shirt as he and Ben took the strain of two men dangling on the rope.
    It had been an easy matter to lift a slip of a girl like Honey clear, but getting a heavy coachman with a sturdy groom hanging onto his legs over the windowsill seemed nigh impossible to Honey. But soon Lord Alistair and Ben dragged the coachman in and along the floor until Abraham catapulted through the window, still holding tightly onto Jem’s legs.
    “Now, Peter,” said Honey, jumping up and down.
    Lord Alistair gave her a sour look, but asked her to point Peter out, and to direct the rope. But the crowd about Peter were now anxious to get out by the same route, and they had to hoist up two strangers before they succeeded in netting Peter.
    “Now,” said Lord Alistair, “I think we should all get out of here as soon as possible.”
    There was a murmur of agreement, but Honey stood with her back to the window, her eyes flashing. “There are women and children down there,” she said. “We should not forget them.”
    Lord Alistair looked at her wearily. He wanted to point out that his muscles were already cracking, that any woman who went to a public hanging should know to expect a riot, but there was something touchingly gallant about the small figure in the sage-green cloak, so he called to Ben and to Honey’s servants to help him.
    They rescued four women and five children before the crowd below suddenly began to make their escape as the mob on the outer fringes of Newgate began to disperse.
    “Thank you,” said Honey, impulsively stretching out a hand to Lord Alistair. “You were magnificent.”
    “I cannot return the compliment,” said Lord Alistair icily. “I will return you to your aunt.”
    They had to walk as far as High Holborn before Lord Alistair could reclaim his carriage from the inn where he had left it.
    “Make your way on foot, Ben,” he said to his groom. “I would have a word with Miss Honeyford in private. As for the rest of you,” he said, staring coldly at Honey’s servants, “I am sure Lady Canon will have a few words to say to you.”
    Jem, Abraham, and Peter stood by miserably as Honey was helped up into Lord Alistair’s high perch phaeton. They were in no doubt that Lady Canon would dismiss them from her brother-in-law’s employ, and then write and give him the reason.
    Lord Alistair started his lecture as soon as they were on their way along High Holborn. “Miss Honeyford,” he said, “you are a most ungrateful girl. Your aunt has gone to considerable expense to furnish you with a wardrobe and to train you in the ways of society, and
this
is how you repay her.”
    “My father paid for my clothes,” mumbled Honey.
    “Don’t interrupt,” he snapped.
“As
I was saying…”
    Honey sat and fumed. She had nearly been killed, and yet he had not offered one word of concern. He preached on and
on
about her lack of femininity, and yet he treated her worse than a man.
    There