Page 31 of Never a Bride
No matter. The day was young, and Alex was certainly capable of every kind of scandal, both large and small. She would have plenty of things to warn Blythe about.
The first place he visited was Paris Garden, only a few streets away from the Rooster. She knew what went on there—bear-baiting—and she repressed a shudder.
But as the crowd gathered, and she had to stand on the tips of her toes to see Alex’s dark hair and broad shoulders, she was determined to follow him.
All sizes of men closed about her, from hunched, toothless old grandfathers to eager youths much younger than she. She was elbowed and pushed along a path she hadn’t chosen, and the sudden roar of cheering men rose like a wave. After losing sight of Alex, she could only trot along to keep from being trampled. She dreaded that someone would notice she was a woman.
They went into a tunnel beneath the building, and Emmeline paid a penny. Soon she was standing beneath the gallery, with large men blocking her view of the sunlit pit. While a pack of dogs snarled, every roar of the bear made her wince as she imagined what was being done to the poor thing.
“Here now, lad,” said a gruff voice behind her. “Can ye not see?”
She looked over her shoulder to find an older man squinting down at her, his tanned face etched with white lines at his eyes and around his mouth.
“I don’t need to see, sir,” she said, remembering to deepen her voice. “I’m looking for my friend.”
“So he brings ye to the bear-baiting and leaves you for a doxy, right?”
“Well, no—”
“Worry not, lad, me boys here can make sure ye have a grand old time. Who has another pint of beer for me new friend here?”
Emmeline’s eyes widened. “Sir, you are too kind, but—”
“The name’s Robbie, lad.”
Someone thrust a tankard of beer at her, and as it sloshed all over her hands, everyone laughed.
“Now lad,” Robbie continued, “we can tell ye be taking a holiday from the manor to be with us common folk—”
She glanced nervously at the many curious faces peering down at her. Why had she spoken so formally?
“—but no need for fear. Ye’re among friends. Drink up!”
A couple of the boys cheered as she took a cautious sip, and then another. She’d had beer before, and though this was hardly the best she’d sampled, it did quench her thirst.
“Come on, it’ll put hair on your chin!” Robbie said with a laugh.
He put his big hand on her back and pushed her between two much taller men, whose elbows grazed her shoulders. She was pressed against a wooden balustrade, and she clutched the tankard to her chest to keep from spilling it. She could see a muddy pit encircled by three levels of galleries, all crowded with boisterous patrons. There were even women hanging on the arms of their men. Taking another sip of beer, she laughed as she realized she could have dressed plainly and come as herself.
The bear roared again, and her gaze was reluctantly drawn to the pit. A brown bear with scars about his muzzle and through his fur was chained from his iron collar to a stake in the very center of the pit. Circled by a pack of growling mastiffs, the poor bear didn’t know which way to turn.
Emmeline gasped when the first dog finally leapt at him. With a roar, the bear caught him in a bone-crushing hug. Feeling queasy, she turned away and took another swallow of beer. She knew the bear wouldn’t be allowed to die, for he was worth much to his handlers. But as for the dogs…she didn’t want to speculate. She sipped her beer and lifted her gaze to the gallery above her.
She suddenly saw Alex. He was standing with a group of men, not even watching the bear-baiting. There was money passing between him and another man—could he be gambling? Absently drinking her beer and studying him, she remembered how he had questioned the quietness of her life. Of course she took risks! What would he think if he saw her now?
Robbie swung a beefy arm about her shoulder. “Ye done with that one yet, lad?”
“Not quite, sir.”
“Drink it down! Me boy Matt wants to race ye.”
“Race?” she echoed. The youth had to be several years younger than she was, for he was thin and gawky, with ears too large for his head. He clutched a tankard between two hands.
“Sure, drinkin’s something all me boys are good at. Here’s another pint.”
She found herself gripping two tankards. Though she wasn’t afraid, for they seemed a nice sort, her stomach felt uneasy, and her head a bit light. She really didn’t want to drink any more beer.
~oOo~
