The Duke's Hellion

by Julia Sinclair

  "Go right inside, and have them call you a hack," she said imperiously. "And perhaps have them call for the constables, if they'll come out to this neighborhood."

  "They won't," Thomas said with a shrug. "And unfortunately, I think that these men are the hack the house called for. I may have been a little too pleased with my winnings."

  "So, you haven't the sense to win graciously?" asked the young missionary with an irritated expression. "Well, perhaps you've learned better for next time. Honey, come on. We're going."

  "What are you two doing on the streets this time of night? Do you need an escort?" Thomas asked curiously. The missionary might have kept going, but the blonde girl paused, looking at him shyly.

  "Miss Blythe's helping me get to a safe place, sir. She says, well..."

  "Honey, we do not need to talk to him," interrupted the missionary.

  "Maybe not," Thomas said, "but I hope you know where you are going."

  "Of course I do!"

  "Then you know how bad it might be for two young unaccompanied women to walk through these streets. So, even if a man is walking alongside them without necessarily being with them, it can save them from some trouble, can't it?"

  The missionary—Miss Blythe?—stiffened a little. "If you will excuse me, sir, I hardly think you are the man to be standing next to if we want to avoid trouble."

  "That little scuffle? Just a part of an evening's fun."

  "Miss Blythe, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad? And we wouldn't have to hide in the alleys and could just walk." Honey looked hopeful enough to melt the hardest of hearts, and it was clear that Blythe didn't have one of those.

  "All right, but at the first sign of trouble from you..." Blythe shook her heavy bag at him.

  Thomas restrained a smile. Though perhaps, really, he ought not be too sanguine about it. He had seen her club a full-grown man to the ground, as slender as she was. "Of course. Well, I am Thomas, and what can I call you?"

  "I'm Honey Wilkins, sir, and this is Blythe Dennings."

  "A pleasure, Miss Wilkins, Miss Dennings. Shall we continue?"

  Thomas wasn't wrong about the neighborhood. It was a nasty one, and he wondered all over again what two women were doing walking alone so late. Miss Dennings didn't look like she was going to give him an answer, and Miss Wilkins looked so tired he couldn't bring himself to ask, so he simply followed along. His presence did turn off some people in the alleys, and both women relaxed a little as they walked.

  After a half hour or so, Miss Dennings turned off the main thoroughfare to walk down a twisting alley. The only light came from a few lanterns hung here and there, and Thomas was beginning to get nervous about where they were actually headed when she stopped and rapped on a door.

  "Who is it?"

  "It's Blythe. I have Honey with me, and... a dissolute brawler as well."

  Thomas raised an eyebrow at that, but they were all three ushered into a plain room lit with cheap and flickering lights that nonetheless showed him a plain but meticulously tidy sitting room.

  "You have come," said a grave grandfatherly man in plain clothes. "My child, we were so worried. And this is Honey?"

  Honey stepped forward, looking suddenly very young and frightened. Without hesitation, the man took her hand and squeezed it warmly.

  "We will do everything we can to help you, Honey. Here, my wife and daughter will feed you, and, after you rest, we can talk about what you want."

  Honey shot a worried look at Blythe.

  Blythe nodded encouragingly at her and handed her a slip of paper. "The Abeggs will take good care of you, Honey, but if you need anything, you can contact me at the address there. It is a box I check every week."

  Honey hugged Blythe tightly, and when Blythe's face softened, Thomas felt something in his chest tighten. Honey was by far the more beautiful of the two, but Blythe, with her gamine features, had a strange elfin beauty of her own, all unexpected.

  "Thank you, Blythe. Thank you so much."

  "You're so welcome, Honey. And Mr. Abegg, thank you as well."

  "Of course, Blythe. It is the duty of the Society of Friends to alleviate what suffering it can."

  Thomas blinked. "You're Quakers!"

  Blythe shot him a withering look. "I am not so lucky as to be a Quaker, and thus, I have no compunctions about bloodying your nose if you are going to be terrible about it."

  "Stop thinking the worst of me."

  "I met you in a street brawl. I'm justified."

  Before Thomas could think of a rejoinder for that, she turned to Mr. Abegg.

  "I should go before I am missed," she said. "Again, thank you. I wouldn't have known where to turn if you hadn't offered up space and help."

  "We will always help where we can. Walk safely, Blythe."

  Blythe went out the door before Thomas could stop her. He started after her, then stopped and turned back to Mr. Abegg. "Here," he said, digging in his jacket. "Take this. For Honey."

  He handed over his winnings from the night as the Quaker patriarch blinked at him, and then he was out the door. For a moment, he thought he had lost Blythe, but then he saw her small form heading up the alley, and he hurried after her.

  "Are you going far?"

  "Is that what you consider an appropriate thing to say to a woman on her own at night?"

  "Maybe not, but you don't strike me as any kind of appropriate woman."

  She glared up at him. "I have to say, I do not think much of your ideas of womanhood."

  Thomas had to grin at that. She was small, but there was a spirit to her that seemed ten times as large as she really was. "You're not afraid at all, are you?"

  "Of course, I am. I am afraid that you are going to keep at me all night, and I will not be able to make it home before dawn."

  "Well, then, we should keep walking, shouldn't we?"

  She hesitated. "You're... offering to walk me home?"

  "I would have offered, but then we started talking about womanhood. Perhaps we can talk and walk? I wouldn't mind getting back to my own bed."

  She fidgeted with her large umbrella, and he wondered suddenly if the woman who had waded into a mugging with her bag flying might be shy. "And it's just... walking? You don't mean anything else?"

  "On my honor," he said. "I may not need to take it as seriously as you, but I know these streets can be dangerous."

  "They can be."

  "Here, take my arm, and we'll fly right through them."

  Thomas wondered why, when he could win hundreds of pounds on a single throw of the dice and beat three opponents in a brawl at once, it felt like such a victory when plain little Blythe took his arm.

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  ALSO BY JULIA SINCLAIR

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  Part Series 01 : Marrowly Grange

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  LINK: Book 2 - The Duke’s Hellion

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  Julia Sinclair

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  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or deceased, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

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  Julia Sinclair, The Duke's Hellion