Page 43 of Seductive Reprise
“Who’s your friend, lass?”
“Think he’d mind if we’d a bit of fun?”
“Hullo, what’s this?” The shorter one reached out for the leather case containing her canvas.
Fury lit her veins. “I said shove off!” she growled, slamming into him with all the force she could muster. Before she could reflect on how much more substantial his form had felt against her scrawny and smarting shoulder, she took off running. Thank goodness she hadn’t been able to fit into Ruth’s dainty slippers for the evening; she’d have barely made it two strides before turning her ankle.
She heard their furious shouts and heavy footsteps thundering after her, and she finally felt fear. She’d never been chased likethis before, and her mind scrambled, unable to figure out a solution in the cloud of panic. All she knew was to keep running. Her panting seemed the loudest sound, drowning out the slap of her feet against the ground. She was almost home. She could see the cabstand.
As if on cue, a familiar voice shouted out, cutting through her alarm.
“Oy!”
Mullock stood in front of the cabstand in his brightly checkered coat, a glaring beacon signaling a safe harbor.
She raced for it, not stopping until her hands were on the side of the flimsy structure, her breath coming in heaves. Before she could ask, the cabbie spoke, his voice stern.
“It’s alright, they took off when they heard me.”
“Thank… thank you,” she managed.
“Save your thanks, there’s no need for it. Just catch your breath.”
Now that the danger had passed, Rose suddenly realized that here she was, in front of her home in the middle of the night, wearing ripped evening clothes and a gentleman’s tails, her hair hanging about her face like a wanton. If her cheeks weren’t already flushed from her mad dash, she was sure they’d be pink with embarrassment now.
“Getting cold now, at night.” Mullock looked away, awkwardly shoving his hands into his front pockets.
Rose swallowed and stood up straight, still a bit shaken. What must Mullock think, her walking home disheveled with what was obviously a man’s garment?
A few moments passed, and then the cabbie looked back at her, the concern plain on his face. “Mind you have a care, Miss Rose.”
Usually she laughed off his entreaties, claiming she’d be fine. Tonight, though, she blinked a couple times, then slowly nodded. “Of course,” she said weakly.
“I mean it,” Mullock said, his friendly tone falling away, now sounding much more like her father. “There’s been strange fellows hanging about. Not a time to be out at all hours.”
Rose bit her lip, avoiding his eyes. Without thinking, she took a few steps back.
Mullock spoke again, his voice softer now, more hesitant. “And please… give my regards to Miss Ruth.”
Shaking his head, he walked back to the other side of the cabstand.
Rose made her way up to the door to her lodgings, pausing on the stairs to look out at the street. Where was Joseph by now? The lump in her throat grew larger, and she found herself despondent, longing for the safety of his presence. The comfort of his embrace, solid and firm. The carriage hadn’t been so bad either, now that she’d considered it. And after all her previous refusals. He’d not wanted to let her out, but he trusted her to make decisions for herself now, it seemed.
Why did it feel like all her choices were the wrong ones as of late?
Rumpled and exhausted, Rose sighed deeply, and went inside.
To her surprise, Ruth was awake, stitching something or other as she sat near the small stove, her posture ramrod straight as always.
“Well?” Ruth asked, not looking up from her needle. “How was it, then?”
Rose self-consciously slid Joseph’s coat off, balling it up quickly as she made for the door to her cramped room.
When she didn’t answer, Ruth glanced up. Her eyes widened for a moment, and then she looked back down at her sewing.
“Your hair’s a mess, I see. Don’t know why I bother.”
“The cabbie asked after you.” Rose deflected from the matters of her hair and the rest of her evening with the bland statement, clutching the bundle of Joseph’s coat against her chest. She fancied she could smell him on it, and her heart ached once more for him.How pathetic, she thought.As if I’m some simpering miss who’s never been accosted before.Still… it would be nice to not be alone just now. Perhaps that was why she stood there in front of her door, forcing conversation with the taciturn Ruth. As a comfort, scant though it may be.
