ardent glance. But however outrageously the women flirted with others, they clung to the arms of their patrons.
Grace decided there must be an unwritten rule in England that stated the more wealthy a man was and the more power he wielded, the more fiendishly ugly he must be.
She shivered, hoping whoever her future titled husband might be, he would be neither wealthy nor powerful.
As she walked on, Grace wondered what it must be like to have so many men panting in one’s wake.
As the way grew darker, the sounds of the dignified string quartet faded and coarser, much more joyous music took its place. She passed a group of people cavorting around a Maypole. The young women dancing in the circle let their hair fly unbound, lifting their hems to display their shapely calves. They were all lovely and wild as a group of wood nymphs cavorting about Dionysus.
No one troubled Grace as she moved along the path, but the underbrush on either side of the walk was teeming with life. Lovers found the soft grass an inviting trysting spot and the furtive sounds of lovemaking seemed to come from behind every bush. Grace felt hot all over and she knew her cheeks must be scarlet.
But she didn’t want to turn back.
This was life she’d never find in her library if she read for a hundred years.
Up ahead, the trees thinned and a broad lawn spread out around the path. Near the top of a small rise, Grace made out a group of fellows blocking the walkway. There were no gas lamps in this part of the park, but by moonlight, she counted five of them circling a single person.
A person leaning on a cane.
The sound of raucous laughter reached her ears. One of the ruffians darted in and tried to knock the cane out from under the man in the center. He stumbled, which amused his tormentors no end, but managed to remain upright.
A red haze clouded Grace’s vision.
How dare they? There was such joy in the garden, why did some people have to ruin it by seeking their fun in the distress of others?
“I say,” she yelled and stomped toward them, quivering with righteous indignation. “What is the meaning of this outrage?”
Bullies were always cowards at heart. Stand up to them and they’ll take to their heels. That was the firm consensus in all the books she’d read on the matter.
Apparently these bullies hadn’t read the same books. The five of them turned toward her as one, their teeth displayed in smiles that held no mirth at all.
“Well, lookee what we ‘ave ‘ere,” one said. “A fair bit o’ muslin, ain’t ye, peach?”
“My name is not Peach,” she said primly, stepping back a pace. “And I’ll thank you to keep your distance. We’ve not been properly introduced and I have no wish to become acquainted with those who prey on someone weaker than themselves. Shame on you.”
The man Grace was trying to help swore softly.
“Don’t she talk fair?” the ringleader said. “Makes you wonder what else that little mouth can do. Shall we give it a go, luv?”
Panic curled in her belly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she babbled. “Whatever you’re referring to, I’m disinclined to oblige you. I’d rather not ‘give it a go.’”
“Shut up, Grace,” the man with the cane murmured.
How does he know my name? She squinted at him, but the man’s face was in shadow.
“Aye, good idea. Shut up, Grace,” the bully said. “Gorblimey! If you don’t, we’ll have to find something to put in your mouth what’ll make you shut up.”
“I gots somethin’ right here, mate,” one of the others called out, clutching his own groin.
Grace’s eyes flared wide. Panic blossomed into full-blown fear. She stepped back, but caught her heel on the raised rock-edge of the path and fell flat on her bottom on the long grass. This was far worse than landing on her mother’s Hakkari carpet.
“Aye, that’s the ticket, luv. May as well get comfy. You’ll be on your back a while this night.” The leader laughed
Grace decided there must be an unwritten rule in England that stated the more wealthy a man was and the more power he wielded, the more fiendishly ugly he must be.
She shivered, hoping whoever her future titled husband might be, he would be neither wealthy nor powerful.
As she walked on, Grace wondered what it must be like to have so many men panting in one’s wake.
As the way grew darker, the sounds of the dignified string quartet faded and coarser, much more joyous music took its place. She passed a group of people cavorting around a Maypole. The young women dancing in the circle let their hair fly unbound, lifting their hems to display their shapely calves. They were all lovely and wild as a group of wood nymphs cavorting about Dionysus.
No one troubled Grace as she moved along the path, but the underbrush on either side of the walk was teeming with life. Lovers found the soft grass an inviting trysting spot and the furtive sounds of lovemaking seemed to come from behind every bush. Grace felt hot all over and she knew her cheeks must be scarlet.
But she didn’t want to turn back.
This was life she’d never find in her library if she read for a hundred years.
Up ahead, the trees thinned and a broad lawn spread out around the path. Near the top of a small rise, Grace made out a group of fellows blocking the walkway. There were no gas lamps in this part of the park, but by moonlight, she counted five of them circling a single person.
A person leaning on a cane.
The sound of raucous laughter reached her ears. One of the ruffians darted in and tried to knock the cane out from under the man in the center. He stumbled, which amused his tormentors no end, but managed to remain upright.
A red haze clouded Grace’s vision.
How dare they? There was such joy in the garden, why did some people have to ruin it by seeking their fun in the distress of others?
“I say,” she yelled and stomped toward them, quivering with righteous indignation. “What is the meaning of this outrage?”
Bullies were always cowards at heart. Stand up to them and they’ll take to their heels. That was the firm consensus in all the books she’d read on the matter.
Apparently these bullies hadn’t read the same books. The five of them turned toward her as one, their teeth displayed in smiles that held no mirth at all.
“Well, lookee what we ‘ave ‘ere,” one said. “A fair bit o’ muslin, ain’t ye, peach?”
“My name is not Peach,” she said primly, stepping back a pace. “And I’ll thank you to keep your distance. We’ve not been properly introduced and I have no wish to become acquainted with those who prey on someone weaker than themselves. Shame on you.”
The man Grace was trying to help swore softly.
“Don’t she talk fair?” the ringleader said. “Makes you wonder what else that little mouth can do. Shall we give it a go, luv?”
Panic curled in her belly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she babbled. “Whatever you’re referring to, I’m disinclined to oblige you. I’d rather not ‘give it a go.’”
“Shut up, Grace,” the man with the cane murmured.
How does he know my name? She squinted at him, but the man’s face was in shadow.
“Aye, good idea. Shut up, Grace,” the bully said. “Gorblimey! If you don’t, we’ll have to find something to put in your mouth what’ll make you shut up.”
“I gots somethin’ right here, mate,” one of the others called out, clutching his own groin.
Grace’s eyes flared wide. Panic blossomed into full-blown fear. She stepped back, but caught her heel on the raised rock-edge of the path and fell flat on her bottom on the long grass. This was far worse than landing on her mother’s Hakkari carpet.
“Aye, that’s the ticket, luv. May as well get comfy. You’ll be on your back a while this night.” The leader laughed
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