Page 9 of His Duchess in Disguise
The proprietor was a kindly man, with two half-grown daughters of his own. He had the delicacy not to ask Emma about her bedraggled appearance or the large bruise on her cheek. Instead, he paid her a little more than the books were worth sinceSense and Sensibilitywas a trifle foxed from where Emma had left it on the windowsill, and it had gotten wet.Pride and Prejudice, however, was in excellent condition. Copies of it were selling rapidly, and he did not have one come often his way.
Consequently, Emma left the bookstore with two more pounds and a shilling in her pocket.
She left the just in time to see a burly stevedore striking at a clearly frightened sorrel mare. Taking no thought at all for her own safety, she flew across the cobblestones, under the man’s uplifted arm, and caught the mare by the cheek strap.
The man was barely able to hold back his blow, which would have landed on Emma’s shoulder. “What are you doing, you daft wench?” he bellowed, causing the frightened horse to sidle and step some more.
“Keeping you from hurting this horse!” she said tartly. “Whatever could it have done to deserve being hit so?”
“She’s refusin’ ta go inta that pen, Miss. M’orders are ta get all these horses in there, then they’s to be sold.”
“How much?” Emma snapped, continuing to hold onto the headstall.
“How much what?” the man asked.
“You are a regular slowcoach, aren’t you?” Emma growled. “How much is the horse?”
“That ‘un? She isn’t regulation height, a regular runt she is, for all that her dame was a prime ‘un and her sire a racehorse. She’s flighty and only half-trained. She’s no horse for a lady.”
“Just what I want,” Emma declared, beginning to soothe the little mare by petting her cheek. “Now tell me again, how much? And be quick about it before I send a boy for the Watch.”
Under Emma’s gentle hands, the little horse steadied, although she continued to tremble. “So, so, my pretty girl,” Emma said to her gently. “So, so, there’s a pretty.” Then she turned to the man, who now had the grace to look a bit ashamed of himself. “Where did you get this lot, good fellow?”
“I’m just a stevedore, miss. I work for an auctioneer. Some city nob come a-cropper, an’ ‘is goods is gettin’ auctioned off. Soon’s she seed all them other horses, this little lady started throwin’ a fit. Don’t know what come over her.”
Emma glanced over her shoulder to where several horses were milling about, all in a state of high excitement. One of the mass was zipping about among the others, nipping and kicking. “I think I can guess. So, tell me again: how much?”
“Tain’t up ta me, miss. I…”
“What’s going on, Jack?” A dandy, wearing a yellow suit and lavender waistcoat strode up to them.
“Hello, sir,” the big man replied. “This young lady wants to know how much for the little mare.”
“I’ve got an offer for the job lot of them,” the dapper man said. “But she’s under-sized and the wrong color to boot. Likely to go for dog food, since she’s not a foal by any means.”
A tall man, clothed completely in black, approached the group. People were now beginning to gather, wondering what was going on. Shopkeepers were looking out from their doors, and the bookseller had stepped out, and locking his door behind him, came striding over.
The tall man asked, “Sir Draper, what is going on?”
“We seem to have a problem, Your Grace,” the dandy, Sir Draper, answered. “Jack was having trouble with this little mare, and then this young lady interfered. She seems to want to buy the horse.”
The bookseller moved up behind Emma, not quite touching her. Although not a large man, his stance made it plain that he was prepared to protect his young customer.
“Well,” said the tall man, “I’m buying horses for the army, so I’ve no use for a pony or a child’s pet, which is what it appears that this mare might be. I believe that the goods being auctioned off included some child-sized tack, as well. I’ll take one bob for the lot.”
“Done,” said Emma, pulling a note out of her pocket. “I will finish my business with the bookseller. You can deliver the tack to his door if you can manage it within a candle mark.” She led the mare by the headstall and tied the reins to the lamppost outside the bookstore. She didn’t notice that the tall man, clad all in black, watched her closely.
By the time the bookseller had finished totting up her sales, the stevedore had brought the tack for the small mare. It had clearly been for a young boy. The skirts of the saddle were tooled with lions and unicorns as well as stars and moons. It was a rather odd saddle, with a high, knobbed pommel and a rounded cantle in the Spanish style. The kit included a pair of matching saddlebags. There was a pad made of sheepskin with the wool left on and a colorful blanket.
Emma nodded again, then looked at the tack. “Can I leave her tied here while I go in the clothing store a minute?” she asked the store owner.
“To be sure,” the bookseller said magnanimously. “I’ll keep an eye on her for you.”
Leaving Rags to help guard the small horse, Emma was gone only a few minutes, then returned with a small bundle that she tucked into her valise and a larger bundle that she unfurled. It proved to be a worn blanket, which she spread over the distinctive saddle. “Thank you for your help,” she said, extending her hand to the bookseller.
“You are quite welcome,” he replied, bending over her fingers, and kissing the air just as if he were a gentleman and she a great lady.
Emma giggled, and hung the valise over the high pommel of the saddle, tying it on with a bit of string. She set Rags on top of the blanket that was flung over the saddle, and taking hold of the mare’s bridle, she paced along beside a farm cart that seemed to know where it was going, letting the dust and the tall cart offer a bit of disguise as she made her way out of London. She had coins in her pocket, and a horse to ride. What could possibly go wrong?
