Regency Rogues Omnibus (98 page)

Then suddenly, Affinity dragged the small opal ring she wore from her third finger, snatching Anne’s hand just as the footmen took hold of poor Anne from either side. Affinity managed to close Anne’s fingers around the ring right before the footmen began pulling a sobbing Anne from the room. It was Affinity’s mother’s ring, one of only two pieces she had left of her mother’s legacy.

She had so little to give, as she gasped, but too late for Anne to hear, “I’m so sorry!”

Early the next morning, Affinity was ashamed of her actions as she paced the oiled oak floorboards in her bedchamber.

“I should have tried to speak for her!” It didn’t matter that she had given dearly of what little she owned, because she understood Anne’s dire fate. If only Anne had some family of her own to fall back on. “If only this weren’t so unfairly a man’s world!” Affinity muttered.

Men controlled every event, every action, and every woman in one form or another; to no good at all. It could be said that she was bias with the horrible uncle that she was sacked with. However, at all turns in her life it seemed that men thwarted her desired pursuits.

For goodness sakes, because of her gender, she was not allowed to read the very public London newspaper. It was considered unseemly and unladylike that she should even have the desire to do so. A lady, or any woman for that matter, less prostitutes she imagined, were not allowed to approach any man of their interest in the partisan world she lived.

“How in the world will they know that I am interested in them, if I’m not even allowed to approach them?” The answer, of course, was to wait for them to approach the lady, which was never going to happen as far as Affinity could tell from her first disastrous half-season in London so far. “I really question how men ever won the first war, the ninnies!”

“My lady, I have gotten the address.”

“Mrs. Todd, that is excellent,” Affinity said, turning to the Redgrift cook standing in the open doorway to her bedchamber.

Mrs. Todd was a thin and pinched looking woman of undeterminable age, but with a secret heart of gold. “Yes, my lady, and I sent the note along for Anne to meet you in the park by the statue of Admiral Nelson.”

Affinity clapped her hands together, and then reached for her gloves. “Then, I shall go straight away. I’ll not want to miss her. I know I will be able to find her another position with one of my friends soon. She must have heart and I will relay that to her. Thank you, Mrs. Todd!”

Mrs. Todd’s gaze darted down the hallway, then back to Affinity, while her voice lowered. “I have a small packet of food, Miss Affinity.”

Affinity whispered also, “Of course, Mrs. Todd, as much as you can and should Aunt Fuchsia ask, just say that I’m napping.”

Chapter Two

Affinity entered St. James Park at a brisk walk, adjusting the veil pulled down from her jaunty walking hat beneath her chin more firmly. It was not quite proper for her to be unescorted anywhere, much less the park. However, for her mission it was necessary, and she really bristled on the bits of societies constraints continually hemming her in. Therefore this was not the first time, nor would it be the last time, that she would move about unescorted as she wished. This being true, she strove for the upright and confident carriage of a married lady about town. She felt quite lucky to have an absentminded chaperon like Aunt Fuchsia. It allowed her all types of liberties other young ladies never hoped to entertain.

Yet, her stolid friends, Brevity, Caprice, and Diversity all seemed to manage clandestine freedom from their various families when needed. They were all young ladies, having met and formed a closely bound group of friendship, while attending Lady Whitmore’s Academy for Young Ladies. They had all received their letters of graduation from the academy at the same time, and this year found them ensconced in their first London season.

“Not that it is doing one of us any blasted good in finding husband material!” Affinity muttered as she came in sight of the rather pompous bronzed statue of Lord Nelson atop a stallion.

Suddenly, the sounds of a dog’s sharp yelping came from Affinity’s left, stopping her forward motion as she turned her gaze toward the hurtful sound. She saw a gentleman, in great agitation, whipping the quirt he carried down upon an apparently loose Gordon setter with a lush coat of russet. Affinity yelped at the same moment that the dog did upon receiving another cruel blow from the quirt, then she hastily found her voice. “I say there! Is that your dog?” she cried, somewhat shrilly as she marched toward the pair. She immediately saw the loose leash dangling from the setter and realized the poor animal was backed into bramble bushes and could not escape the angry nobleman.

“Away!” the elderly man shouted, raising his quirt again.

“Do not thrash him again!” Affinity cried, boldly running between the livid elderly nobleman and the setter.

“The beast is dangerous!” he shouted, yet just as the overturned patriarchal gentleman shouted his warning, Affinity heard a sharp whistle coming from behind them and to the left of where she and the setter stood. In her mind she was certain the agitated nobleman would not bring his quirt down upon her as she turned toward the setter’s answering bark of welcome.

Affinity’s gaze lifted and it was as though the normally overcast skies parted in a unique ray of sunlight to shine down on the obvious Master of the setter. By her intervention, she had given the setter enough room to escape, and she watched the beautiful dog bound toward his Master, some thirty paces away.

Black eyes as deep and ponderous as a sleeping volcano glanced at her beneath a widely-rimmed country top hat. The brim on the top hat was so sweeping that Affinity could not identify the color or shape of the gentleman’s hair. She could only see those depth-filled eyes, a square masculine nose, and a jawline shadowed by the scraped bristles of what would be a darker beard if allowed to grow out.

The man appeared only slightly taller than her height as she stood in her walking boots. He wore a great coat with its charcoal-colored capes billowing out in the slight wind. He appeared rather majestic, yet somehow mysterious, Affinity thought, even as she was unsure where the conclusions came from. However, there was no mistaking the slight increase in her heartbeat. A reaction she knew instantly as attraction.
She found him appealing.
That was odd. Yet, that revelation could not be denied as the gentleman grasped the setter’s leash and turned to leave, his entire bearing was quite pleasant to gaze upon, with his high riding boots, tightly fitted tan-shaded buckskin breeches, and firm shoulders.

“Masculine and not foppish at all,” Affinity whispered, finding herself fighting the urge to follow the manly gentleman as she realized her attraction came from precisely the fact of his effervescent male bearing. So many of London’s fashionable and eligible bachelors ended up looking dandified with their frills, lace, buckled shoes, and curled hair. All of this was done for the Belles of the Ball, of course, those young ladies most popular at all the London seasons events. Apparently, they wanted their men as such, because they tittered over them enough.

“But not me,” Affinity whispered, taking one step toward the path where her masculine gentleman and the setter had disappeared down. Then, she brought herself to a reluctant stop, what she would not give to see more of this man, perhaps discover his name. But she had to meet Anne and that was more important.

She was glad to see, when she turned back to her mission, that the dog beating nobleman had disappeared. It was only a short distance to the statue and Affinity could see that Anne had not arrived yet. Immediately, she began to worry over whether Anne would come at all.

“Of course she will,” Affinity muttered, arriving at the statue and circling it slowly with her eyes cast out into the park for a glimpse of Anne’s approach. She knew that her uncle’s angry dismissal of Anne, while labeling her a thief, left Anne with only two choices. One of factory worker or two, prostitution, and likely not the factory worker with the brand of thief upon her. It was unique that she should understand these sordid affairs, yet she was an avid student of life and the world around her was her classroom. Many ladies of her station would be aghast that she wished to understand the realities of life. But they were fools for their compliance and living only half a life with half the emotions that could be experienced.

Affinity caught glimpses of yellow out of the corner of her eye and she turned her gaze more fully toward it. Anne’s bonnet was yellow, but the glimpse through the trees was gone. “No wait, there it is again.” Yet, Affinity could not decide if it was coming closer or moving further away. It was not far, so she walked in that direction to obtain a closer look. It appeared as if the yellow swatches were bouncing amidst the clutter of green leaves, but also staying in one singular spot. Then abruptly, Affinity heard a woman’s cry that moved her forward hastily. She was instantly reminded of the setter just a short time ago, because the woman’s cry was certainly distressed. Then, just as soon as she broke through the leafy tree branches, she spied Anne.

“Oh my God!” Affinity exclaimed, halting suddenly, uncertain how to proceed. Uncertain, how to rescue Anne? “Anne!” she cried, realizing instantly that her cry was foolish, because it was Anne who was being accosted by a thick, short-set, and greasy-haired ruffian.

Anne and the man struggled beside a little used path with the ruffian obviously accosting Anne in a sexual nature. One of his dirt-stained hands was pawing Anne’s breasts through her linen gown, while his other arm was gripped around her waist. Affinity gathered her courage, even though her limbs were shaking, and she started forward, because her exclamation had not stopped his advances at all.

“Come on, ye sassy bird! I got a halfpence here for ye to suck me pud.”

Affinity gasped at the scoundrel’s lewd language and meaning, as Anne cried. “I’m not a bird! I am no prostitute! Let me go!”

Just then, Affinity swung her carrying bag at the scrappy ruffian’s thick head with all the force she could muster. It was the only weapon she could conceive of and it did hold a rather hefty book. However, the weight of the lift and the swing were feebler than she’d hoped for and the bag only thumped against the scoundrel’s shoulder, as she exclaimed, “Release her at once! She is my maid and I will call a Bow Street runner . . . Oh!” Affinity cried out as the awful smelling ruffian swung his arm around knocking her backward.

Over the din, severe barking sounded as Affinity tottered, then she thankfully regained her balance, just as the barking turned into a threatening growl with what sounded like the word, “Attack!” Swiping her falling bonnet upright, Affinity was able to lift her gaze and she saw the Gordon setter attacking the lecherous villain.

“Go, Beauty!” Affinity cried enthusiastically, quite surprising herself. But then Anne, who was released from the villain’s clutches by the setter’s intervention, began cheering also. The man who was overturned and overpowered, leaped back to flee with the setter after him.

“Oh no!” Affinity exclaimed, when she saw that the setter meant to give chase. Affinity hastily glanced around not seeing the setter’s Master and she knew the brave setter could be lost in the chase if someone did not restrain him. Then without really considering it, because events were transpiring so quickly, she simply rushed forward after the setter in the heat of the moment. She did not know the setter’s name, so she called him Beauty as she excitedly tried to call him back.

It was quite unseemly for a lady to run as she was, but she had to admit it felt extremely good and enormously freeing. Her young limbs stretched and her breath labored as she gave her full effort to the task. She was never one to do anything halfheartedly. However, she would not have caught the setter, except the villain leaped a short wrought-iron fence enclosing the edges of the park. He did it so clumsily that he snagged his leg and tore his brown-stained breeches, while she cheered at his discomfort. But she also cheered the fact that the setter was unable to pass the barrier of the fence, and she was able to halt her running a short distance away from him. Then, really without meaning to do so and with her breath catching, Affinity sank to her knees.

She had to find a soothing voice to coax the setter to her, however her breathing was such she could not manage it for long moments. But by then, the setter had come to her side nuzzling her happily as though they were old comrades together. Affinity supposed that by now they were as she petted him fondly, wishing heartily that she could undo her corset.

But that was a lady’s lot in life, to be so constrained and tied up tightly in the misguided guise of attractiveness and morality.

“Oh but I have run, Beauty!” Affinity exclaimed to the setter, petting him faithfully with one hand, while she grasped his leash with the other. “I might never have a chance to do this again. It was glorious!”

Affinity stood then, looking around the park to see if any were aghast at her display. Surely seeing her catch the setter would relieve any censure, and while she noticed that most people were about their business, her gaze did halt on two ladies sitting on a bench across the park.

“Oh no,” Affinity muttered, turning her gaze immediately away from them.

It was Lady Jane Strickland and Lady Anna Pommel. How could they possibly be up this early in the morning? Both those young ladies were pampered and beautiful snobs of the worst kind. They lived their lives looking down their classically perfect noses at others while pronouncing judgments and maligning them with vicious gossip. Only the truly popular and beloved of London’s society could do that, and they were the ringleaders of the group of ladies that were Affinity’s nemesis. She and her three friends, Brevity, Caprice, and Diversity had somehow, within the first two events of this season, been found undesirable or lacking. Nonetheless, she was intelligent enough to realize this must happen every season. The natural law of human nature proclaimed there would always be the most popular, the midrange popular, and then the wallflowers.