Second Season by Elsie Lee Page A

tersely. “I am the Duke of Imbrie.”
    “Captain Sir Eustace Gayle, 2nd Brigade of the Light Bobs—your servant, sir.”
    “Hah! One of Vandeleur’s lads, eh?” The duke’s heavy eyebrows rose slightly. “Very neat capture—congratulate you!—never seen a prettier circle, but expectable from a Light Bob, and what do you in London?”
    “Oh, I was in the way of a bullet at Ciudad Rodrigo,” Sir Eustace shrugged casually. “Invalided home to Gayle, but Ireland —I’m always surprised it hasn’t sunk from water-log between visits! So I’m billeted on my aunt, bothering the War Office to return me.”
    “Missed Badajoz, then? And a good thing, from what I hear.”
    “Faith, and it was, I suppose—not but what I’d have liked a swipe at Johnny Crapaud.”
    Charlotte found her voice, ringing with indignation. “John, assist Miss Emily to transfer to me. Come, darling, and we’ll take you home while these gentlemen continue their conversation.”
    His grace’s lips twitched, but Sir Eustace protested, “Oh, ’tis no trouble at all, ma’am—beg you’ll allow me. No need to disarrange Miss Emily, she’s most securely fixed, a mere featherweight.”
    “But I think we must not incommode you farther, sir. John!” commandingly.
    “Yes, Miss Stanwood,” but when the groom reached up for Emily, she shuddered and cowered, and was understood to wail, “No, please ... oh, Sharlie, I can’t!”
    Sir Eustace looked down—Emily looked up pleadingly. “Sure, and ye needn’t, then,” he murmured softly, kicking his horse into a turn to pace sedately .toward the railings, leaving the others to follow.
    By now a growing group of pleasurably excited people were swarming forward to see the ’orrid accident. Charlotte bit her lips with a stormy glance for the Duke, but she had no choice but to turn Moonshine to accompany Sir Eustace. John-groom silently brought up the rear, leading Firefly. Looking neither to right nor left, Charlotte was aware of his grace’s black stallion politely pacing alongside. She was further aware of his suppressed amusement, although what he found laughable escaped her.
    “Ow, miss, is the young lady dead, then? Coo, it does make me come over queer-like!” an onlooker sighed avidly. “Wot ’appened? I missed it.”
    “What a pity,” said Sharlie coldly, continuing on her way while the questioner drew back protesting aggrievedly, “I was only arskin ’.”
    “And you have had an answer,” his grace’s voice said courteously. “I would suggest you retire, madam. The horses are fidgety. We should not like a real accident, should we?”
    “Oh, h’l should think not! Come away, Maggie, do! H’l don’t like the look of them beasts—great murderin’ animules, if you arsk me.”
    Charlotte firmed her lips again, but a deep chuckle from the duke betrayed her into a silent quiver of laughter. “Ah, that’s better, Miss Stanwood,” he approved. “A few smiles will convince the populace there is nothing worthy of gossip. Now, where is the young idiot heading? Gayle,” he raised his voice irritably, “you’ll not get out that way.” His grace spurred forward, closely followed by Charlotte. She could see his expression change, nor—when she drew up beside the Captain—could she wonder, for Emily was entirely restored. Most reprehensibly, she was smiling, blushing faintly, chatting with shy animation in the arms of a complete stranger!
    “We’ll not trouble you farther, Sir Eustace. I’ll relieve you,” said the duke impersonally. “Come, Miss Emily.”
    “Oh, I say,” the Captain began, but Imbrie merely raised his eyebrows and repeated, “ Come, Miss Emily.” Emily had no choice. His grace reinforced words with action, and calmly picked her from Sir Eustace’s lap in one smooth motion. “Your servant, sir,” and the duke trotted off without a backward glance, leaving the Captain almost open-mouthed. While Charlotte applauded his grace’s quick thinking to