Page 63 of Lady Daring
The girl sat down, her face transfigured by wonder. An explosion of voices followed as every woman competed to name her talent and secure Henrietta’s vow of support. Henrietta shamelessly promised everything she could, buoyed by the hope that each of these girls could earn her way into the life she should have had before misfortune and destitution or, in some cases, blatant trickery had brought her to where she was now.
If she meant to claim that education and opportunity could make women virtuous, contributing members of their society, then Henrietta would demonstrate with these candidates who had fallen into her lap, courtesy of the King’s officers.
And if she were wrong—well, she was the daughter of Jasper Wardley-Hines and the late Apollonia Wardley-Hines. She would go down fighting.
Booted feet approached the door, and a key scratched the lock. Her companions scrambled to their feet, huddling around Mame’s pallet like a flock of bedraggled birds. Henrietta stood, fatigue rattling her bones. She had been here for hours. Had someone come for her? Anyone?
The door opened, and she nearly fainted. Lord Darien Bales stood in the doorway, his eyes burning coals in his marble face.
She had feared she might never see him again. Never see his tall frame filling a doorway, his smile of amusement at her expense, those blue eyes alight with speculation or wariness or interest.
It took only the sight of him to know, with utter certainty, that she could not do without him in her life. She had been marked by their association, and she would never be able to let go of that.
The single rush light had burned to a stub, smarting her eyes through the darkened gloom. It must be the tail end of the evening. But Darien was the image of perfection with his hair neatly queued, his coat gleaming, his well-fitting breechesuncreased. His neckcloth lay in perfect folds, his shirt was the white of summer clouds, and his eyes were as dark as a storm over the sea.
“Ey now,” one of the girls squealed. “This gorger’s for me. ’Ere I am, chuck!”
Darien’s eyes locked on Henrietta’s, and she stood unmoving as his hostile gaze raked her to her feet, then back up. She must look like she’d been dragged through a hedge backward. Her lovely new gown was torn and soiled, the hem in tatters from having been stepped on by many feet besides hers, and she smelled of the several unwashed bodies in the room.
Her hair had come down during her arrest and hung in a long rope along her back. She looked like a wraith that might walk the moors, a specter conjured to haunt naughty children. Darien’s lips tightened as he examined her face.
“This one,” he said without emotion, with only a small, tight nod in her direction. “This is Miss Wardley-Hines. Sir Jasper’s daughter,” he stressed.
“Ooh, sir!” said a blend of female voices. “I’m with ’er, then.”
“Take me too, ’andsome!”
“I’mthe one as is Sir Jasper’s daughter,” Belinda lied outrageously. The girls vied to get closer, jostling Henrietta. Darien stepped into the room.
“Why, Lord Daring, as I live and breathe.” Mame sat up, blinking in surprise. “And better-looking himself than those sketches in the papers have it. Scrapin’ the bottom o’ the barrel, ain’t cher, a bang-up swell like yerself? Time was you could’ve ’ad any high-flyer, an’ pay not a hap’ny for her neither!”
“I am retrieving a friend who seems to be here due to some egregious misunderstanding,” Darien said tersely. “Tell him who you are, Henry.”
“I am Henrietta Wardley-Hines,” Henrietta squeaked. “And what are the charges against me, pray?”
“Rabble-rouser!” the warden exclaimed. “She was neck-deep with them good-for-nothing Corresponders, milord, for all that she’s a woman and the Tavern ain’t no place for ’er. Pitt meant to nab the lot of ’em, and that ’e did.”
“Prime Minister Pitt will find, when he looks into the matter, that Miss Wardley-Hines had no part in instigating the riot you witnessed. Now let her go at once, or the Marquess of Langford will have a word or two for the King about how the City treats those it has detained.”
Henrietta stared, goggle-eyed.Darienhad come to her assistance, to deliver her from imprisonment. Darien!
“Aye, you, yer swell’s ’ere to spring ye,” the warden sneered, reaching for Henrietta. “Tried to tell ’im you belong ’ere, but wants you ’imself, he does. See that ’e delivers ye to yer father after, aye? For I’ve ’eard a word or two about this one, don’t think I ’aven’t!”
He froze at Darien’s quiet voice. “Touch her and I’ll lace your jacket, watchman.”
“Insultin’ a King’s man!” the guard exclaimed. “Interferin’ w’ the King’s peace!” But the arm fell away.
Henrietta stepped forward on legs that wobbled from a combination of nerves, thirst, and an oppressively full bladder. He had come for her.
“Have you found James? Is he here too?”
The women surged in one body behind her. “Take us! Take us all. Don’t leave us ’ere, miss. Youpromised!”
Henrietta turned to face them, putting a hand over her heart. “Yes, I promised all of you aid. I must stop home to collect the coin to pay your fines, and then I will take each of you to the Sisters of Benevolence Hospital, or wherever you wish.”
The warden snorted. “Ye cain’t take ’em out. Ain’t the rules.”
“Oi, ye can spring us now, mum,” several voices begged. A hand or two clutched a ruffle on her gown.
