Free Springtime Pleasures by Sandra Schwab

hence…” She pointed at her legs. “I have no memory of that either. Only of the weeks and months that followed.”
    How ghastly! Charlie would have liked nothing more than to dash to Lady Isabella’s side and give her a big, hearty hug. But as this surely would be considered most unseemly here in London, she forced herself to say evenly, “Those weeks must have been… unpleasant.”
    “Yes. Yes, they were.” Lady Isabella stared at the trees that slowly rolled by, as they entered a part of the Park where the trees and bushes stood more densely.
    For a moment the two girls remained silent.
    “Naturally, my parents blamed George,” Lady Isabella finally continued, her voice brisk. “It is beastly unfair; he tried to keep William from taking the phaeton. Still, they can’t forgive him for having become the heir. For some reason, they pretend he did it on purpose when nothing could be further from the truth!”
    Too shocked to speak, Charlie stared at her. This was truly monstrous! The poor man! She remembered the lines of strain in his face that evening in those moments when his polite mask had slipped. No wonder he looked like three days of rain! In his situation anybody could be excused if they suffered from an attack of the blue devils. Merely thinking about the cross injustice done to him made her feel sick.
    Lady Isabella leaned forward. “I hate it!” she whispered fiercely. “I can’t begin to tell you how much I hate how they treat my brother!”
    Charlie took her hand and pressed her fingers in sympathy.
    “It wasn’t his fault,” the girl continued, her voice rising with agitation.
    “Of course it wasn’t,” Charlie tried to soothe her. “I am sure—”
    Something rustled in the bushes in front of them and their horses whinnied as another equine stepped out of the greenery to block their path. On it sat a shabbily dressed man whose lower face was hidden behind a grimy neckcloth and who was holding a gun in his hand.
    “Oh dear,” Charlie said. “Not again .”
    ~*~
    Naturally, Randolf Butling had heard all about the accident that had befallen Long John and Short Jimmy up in the north. The two men had become the table-sport in all the dingy taverns up and down the country. Randy But had been among those who had laughed the loudest. Just imagine: two strapping lads, tanned and towelled up by two titters! Yes, he had laughed and laughed until his belly hurt. Those two, Long John and Short Jimmy, must be such damned weaklings that every crook in England ought to be ashamed for them!
    Obviously, Randy But had never heard of any such wisdoms that pertained to Tempting Fate and Pride cometh before the fall .
    So this morning Fate decided to teach Randy But a lesson.
    When he nudged his horse to step out of the bushes, he didn’t yet know that Lady Fortuna was turning her wheel (smiling) and that he was bound on a downspin. But he was soon to find out. His fall would be steep. And it would hurt.
    A lot.
    For now, he pointed his pistol at the lad on the box seat. “No funny stuff, eh?”
    One of the chits, a tall, bony gal, stood up. “And what do you think you are doing?” she asked loudly. She had a nerve! But her lofty, nobbish ways wouldn’t help her now. The Park was deserted, as he well knew, and if she thought she could call for help, she was mistaken, oh yes, missy, she was!
    He sneered behind his mask. “Your money and jewels, tutt-switt.”
    “You want to rob us?” The bony chit’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. “You want to rob us?”
    The other chit tugged at the sleeve of her dainty jacket thing. “Miss Stanton, I beg you–”
    Yet apparently, the stupid bony chit was bent on her destruction.
    Randy But nudged his horse and steered it to the side of the carriage so he could level the pistol directly at her. “Don’t make me repeat meself,” he growled.
    “You cannot rob us!” Her arms moved through the air. “This is outrageous!” She bent to retrieve