Page 10 of The Rules of Matrimony
“The noose is the only way,” another shopkeeper said. “We don’t need more scum on the streets robbin’ our wares.”
It was a regular mob of store owners against a starving girl. Ian had one chance to do something about it, and he needed to do it right. “Sir,” Ian shouted to the butcher, hoping to be heard over the arguing and scuffle in front of him. “Sir, you have my servant.” His words were lost in the chaos.
“Drag her to the Old Bailey!” the older woman cried.
“Dirty thief ought to learn a lesson right proper,” growled another.
Ian shoved his way through the onlookers, urgency sweeping over him. “Release her!”
His strong voice caused the butcher and the thief to momentarily still.
“Unless you’re the constable, you’d better shove off.” The butcher growled.
“This woman is my servant.” Ian pointed to the unkempt young lady, her scraggly blonde hair strewn half across her face.
The butler seethed, his cheeks turning purple. “This woman is a no-good thief. Didn’t I tell you to shove off?”
Ian folded his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes to match the man’s attempt to intimidate him. In his sternest voice, Ian demanded, “If you don’t release my servant, you will be the one who pays the consequence. This meat was meant for me, but I forgot to educate the newest member of my staff on the correct way to purchase it.” He faced the poor girl, her pallor the familiar chalky nature of the half-starved. “You must give the shopkeeper the correct address and payment before you take the meat next time.”
A man behind him laughed high and sharp.
Ian didn’t exactly have time to finesse his rescue, so his bumbling efforts would have to do. Ignoring the onlookers, Ian’s gaze moved to the furious butcher, who was not at all amused. “She was never trained properly,” Ian explained. “I accept full responsibility.” Ian pulled out his coin purse and unrolled several banknotes and overpaid the man—mostly to shut him up. He did not believe for a minute that the young woman was attempting to steal an entire cart of meat in broad daylight. It was a good thing his father hadn’t cut him off financially yet, because this was a costly little rescue.
The butcher spat on Ian several times with his incessant tendency to speak through his crooked, gritted teeth as he spouted his indignations, and then the man finally released the young lady into Ian’s custody.
Relief soared through Ian. Not once did the startled woman object, although there were plenty of others about them who cursed and complained how the rich controlled the world. They were both right and wrong. Money couldn’t buy everything, but today ithadbeen essential.
He set the young lady on his horse and walked to the end of the street and around the corner, leading his horse by the reins. Then hestopped abruptly and looked up at the woman. All this time, she’d said nothing.
“What’s your name?” Ian asked.
“Edna.”
“Do you work hard?”
She glowered at him as if he’d just insulted her. “I do.”
“Are you prepared to make an honest woman of yourself?”
Her face marginally softened. “Ye’re not going to sell me to the brothels?”
Maybe his mother was right, and he did look mean. “No, I am not going to sell you.”
Her eyes widened, and she smiled with relief. “Thank ye, sir. Oh, thank ye.”
“Well, can I trust you?” It seemed like a silly question to ask a woman who had been caught thieving.
“I am an ’onest woman, I swear it. I used to be a lady’s maid and good one, too, until my parents died of the fever. But ’ard times can turn even the ’onest into the desp’rate.”
That he was well aware of. Every time he ventured out of Mayfair, another sobering image engraved itself into his mind. “Do you realize you would have hung for the amount of meat Mr. Allen accused you of stealing?” The criminal law of England had a harsh system, and hanging was the consequence for far too many crimes—hence the infamous nickname “the Bloody Code.”
“I had to do it, sir.” Edna’s face crumpled. “I would ’ave died without it. Me and my sisters.”
There was a whole family of them, was there? Did they all look as hungry and war-torn from surviving life on the streets as this one? He ran his hand down the smooth leather reins of his horse and gave a nod. “The job is yours, then. As my servant.” He would have his housekeeper decide the best place for her and her sisters. He was fortunate to have control of his staff at his townhome and hunting box, because his father would probably see this as another of his many weaknesses. He pointed a stern finger at Edna. “If I so muchas see you pocket a spoon, you’re out of luck. I can be generous, but I won’t be a fool.”
Her eyes widened further, disbelief etched onto her every feature. “Bless you, sir.”
He waved off her thanks and led his horse to a stall selling meat pies and bought some for her and her family. She ate hungrily, thanking him profusely.
