Page 3 of The Virgin Who Humbled Lord Haslemere
“Of course, she wants to ride. She’s a child, and doesn’t know any better, butyoudo, Harrington. These are little girls, not china dolls. If you drop her, you can’t patch her back together with twine and paste.”
Harrington huffed out a breath, but after a bit of sulking he gave in, and reached up to lift Susannah down from his shoulders. “You’re a dreadful bore, Haslemere.”
Benedict slapped him on the back. “I’ll think of some other amusement toentertain you.”
“You’d better,” Harrington grumbled. “Not White’s either, or any of the gaming hells, or I’ll be quite cross with you. I wantsomething new.”
“I’ve never failed you before, have I? Now, Perry. The hat, if you please.” Benedict held out his hand, and Perry handed over the hat. “My dear young ladies, we thank you for your delightful company this evening.” Benedict turned to the two girls and offered each of them an extravagant bow. “You’re both admirable jockeys, and you’ve earnedyour guineas.”
Susannah snatched up the coin Benedict offered her quicker than a frog with a juicy fly on its tongue, but Sarah made no move to take hers. She stared up at Benedict, her chin wobbling, and then…
Disaster struck. Sarah’s eye twitched, her face screwed up, her mouth opened, and a deafening howl broke loosefrom her lips.
Harrington slapped his hands over his ears. “Good Lord. What’s the matter with her? What’s she doing?”
Perry peered down at the little girl. “Erm, she seemsto be crying.”
Harrington leaned down to get a closer look at her, then straightened with a wise nod. “I do believe you’re right, Perry. My sisters cry on occasion, and it looks just like that.”
Benedict stared down at Sarah, horrified. “For God’s sakes, of course she’s crying, you half-wits. Butwhy?”
Susannah had been studying her guinea, as suspicious as any moneylender, but now she turned to Benedict with a shrug. “She wants to go for another horse ride.”
“I want to go again!” Sarah stamped her foot, tears streaming down her cheeks. “That cove theresaid we might.”
“But it isn’t safe, sweetheart,” Benedict protested. “Lord Harrington here is sure to drop you, and you’ll end up with acracked skull.”
“Me? You’re the one who’d have dropped her, Haslemere.”
“She doesn’t care about a cracked skull.” Susannah balanced her guinea in her palm, as if weighing it, then shoved it into her skirt pocket. “Oh, quit yer fussing Sarah, and take yer guinea before these coves shove off.”
But Sarah didn’t stop fussing, not even when Benedict offered her the coin. He’d seen females weep before, but kisses and flattery—or jewels in the direst of cases—usually quieted them quickly enough. Little girls were not, it seemed, as easily soothed. “What do we do?”
“I’ve no idea, but I wish you luck with it, Haslemere.” Harrington pounded him on the back, then turned away. “We’ll see you at Gentleman Jackson’stomorrow, eh?”
Benedict grabbed his coat sleeve. “Tomorrow! You’releavingme here?”
Harrington shrugged him off. “You’re the one who made her cry. I would have taken them foranother ride.”
“Damn it, Harrington.”
Benedict made another grab for him, but Harrington stepped neatly out of his way, and shot him an infuriating grin over his shoulder. “Good luck, Haslemere.”
“Bloody cowards!” Benedict shouted after them, but they disappeared around the corner without a backward glance. “Come now, Sarah, don’t cry,” he pleaded, crouching down in the street in front of the weeping little girl. “Here’s another guinea, all right?”
“Just a minute, guv. I never got my second ride, neither,” Susannah reminded him, holding out her hand.
“With pleasure, Susannah. As I said, you earned every shilling of it.” Benedict was happy to give them the whole lot, if only Sarah would stop crying. He’d never been able to bear it when his younger sister, Jane, wept, and now this little chit had him wrapped around her finger, too.
He pressed the coin into Sarah’s palm. “Now, Sarah, dry your eyes, won’t you? Here’s a nice guinea. Take it. You’re a splendid jockey, and I beg your pardon for disappointing you.”
It was the wrong thing to say. At the reminder of her bitter disappointment, Sarah let loose with a deafening wail that made Benedict’s ears ring. Good Lord, it sounded as if someone were murdering the girl.
In desperation, he dropped to his knees on the wet street and took Sarah gently by her shoulders. “Right, then, how about this? I’ll give you another ride on my back, shall I? Down to the bottom of the lane and back, and then you’ll be off withyour guineas.”
Sarah’s shrieks trailed off into wet sniffles. Bloody good thing, too, because another few minutes of that, and every night watchman in London would be upon them. “Ye’ll take me foranother ride?”
“One more ride only, yes. Help her up, will you, Susannah?” Best get the thing done quickly, before the Runners appeared and took him up for teasinglittle girls.
