Page 62 of The Wallflower Ruse

Wharton squealed, releasing Alfreda to grab his nose. Blood bubbled and spurted, and Wharton bleated in agony.

“Tsk, tsk,” Davis said. “How very rough and ready of you, my lord. You should have let me take care of him.”

Alfreda cast herself onto Restive’s chest, gazing up at him in blatant adoration. Restive suppressed a shudder and passed the girl to Davis. “Unfortunately, my dear Yolanda, I need you to take care of her. Find her some clothing and put her somewhere safe—preferably under lock and key.”

Davis took hold of Alfreda, who burst into tears. “You can’t lock me up!”

“He can but needn’t do so,” said a familiar voice. “I’ll take her home. She’s the perfect excuse to get my wife out of here without a fuss.”

“Haraldson,” Restive said. “How convenient.”

“Your delightful friend Miss Belair suggested I ask you to flirt with my wife and guide her toward the doors, after which I would toss her into my waiting coach and drive away.”

Restive muttered under his breath, and Davis tittered. Alfreda’s substantial bosom heaved. “I hate Miss Belair, and I shan’t go home! I can’t!”

“You shall not only go home, but your parents will learn precisely what you were up to this evening,” Restive said coldly. “Take her aside, Yolanda. Mr. Haraldson and I wish to have a private chat.”

“I shan’t go, I shan’t!” Alfreda shrieked.

Davis clamped a hand over her mouth. “Quiet, or I’ll give you back to Henry the Eighth.” He indicated where Wharton was staggering to his feet. “Well? People are beginning to notice you. Do you wish to be shunned from good society forever?”

Alfreda subsided into silent weeping, and Restive turned to Mr. Haraldson. “Why must you spirit your wife away?”

“Because, as I explained to Miss Belair, there’s something untoward going on—perhaps something to do with sedition, which seems so popular with the set my wife favors nowadays. I want her out of here.”

“Untoward in what way?”

“How should I know? She’s brimming over with suppressed excitement, and I don’t like it. She thinks I don’t notice when she’s doing something I would disapprove of.”

“Women,” Restive said bitterly. “Yolanda will make sure Alfreda gets into your coach.”

“Thank you—but what about Miss Belair? She tells me Pearce abducted her.”

“So I understand,” Restive said. “One of my servants saw it happen and followed the coach, but lost it. Fortunately, Pearce brought her directly here.”

“What do you intend to do about her? She may be in danger, if only from unscrupulous men.” Mr. Haraldson eyed Restive sternly, who did his best not to bridle. The old fellow meant well.

“I will defend her in whatever way is necessary,” Restive said grandly. “Even with my life.”