Almost in perfect synchrony, both men reached out to grab each horse’s harness. Gripping the harness with one hand, Peter pulled, his muscles straining with controlled force. The rapid clatter of hooves against cobblestones and the high-pitched squeaking of the wheel spring testified to the urgency of the matter. Across him, Matteo’s strong voice commanded the horses. Feeling them finally submit, they managed to rein in and slow down the scared horses.
Among the two men, Peter was the better horseman although Matteo was not so far behind him. All those years of dedicated training had not only bred in Peter discipline and mastery in riding but had also led to his confidence in handling horses as well.
As the carriage slowed down, the other riders who also gave chase caught up with them. The ruffian who, by now, knew thathe was done for, leaped from the coachman’s seat in an attempt to escape.
One of the men, still atop his horse, grabbed him by the collar of his coat. The other man dismounted quickly and tackled him to the ground. The ruffian shouted profanities and insults but could do little.
“I shall see to the lady,” Peter told Matteo as he dismounted. From across him, he saw his friend had already proceeded to further calm the horses lest they bolt again.
He moved hurriedly to the carriage and threw the door open.
“Madam, are…” Words suddenly failed Peter. Before him was a vision. The lady sat very still, one hand wrapped like a vise around the grab handle. Hair, the color of rich autumn foliage, fell from her ruined coiffure. Her eyes, still huge from her recent experience, were the color of wet spring leaves.
She was beautiful. Realizing the direction of his thoughts, Peter gave himself a mental shake. What were all these thoughts of leaves and seasons? Good god, the lady was in shock, and all he could think of was her eyes and her hair.
Get a hold of yourself! She is just some errant miss.
Firmly taking hold of the train of his thoughts, he looked at her again, this time noting that she was certainly not that but a noblewoman if not a lady!
Pretty, unwed—if her lack of a wedding ring had anything to say about it—and certainly unchaperoned… Finding himself suddenly irritated, Peter spoke again, not bothering to check his tone.
“What can you mean by being in this part of town and so late into the night? Where is your chaperone… your maid?”
The lady blinked fast, as if Peter’s words were the catalyst to clearing her shock away. He saw the sharpening in her eyes as his questions registered.
“I might be mistaken, but I do believe it is polite—correct even—to ask after my health first before lecturing me.” Her words were as cold as ice, but her voice—the timbre of it, the quality of it—left a tingling feeling in Peter’s skin. “I do believe as well that I owe you thanks for stopping that—that man.” She gestured to the ruffian as she moved to exit the carriage. “But that does not give you leave to act like a warden!”
Peter was so taken aback that he neglected to assist her in dismounting from the carriage. He was not used to being spoken to in such a way. Not by his peers, not even by his friends, save Matteo on occasion, and definitely not by ladies who barely reached his shoulder.
“It’s a simple question, madam. Surely you, with all your knowledge of courtesy and correct behavior, can answer it?”
“Of course, sir,” she spoke sweetly.
When she did not continue, he merely looked at her.
He could practically hear her mind searching for an answer.
“I was on my way to attend a friend’s dinner party.”
“Why was your carriage parked? Surely the dinner party is not in one of these workshops?”
He saw her flinch then, adapting a nonchalant expression on her face, he saw her attempt to answer.
“I… We…”
She stopped and stared. Turning to see, he saw a silhouette of a man nearing them. It caught her attention, and indeed, a voice called out to her.
“M’Lady!”
Her coachman approached her, limping and bruised but otherwise whole.
“Benson!” She gripped his arm.
“M’Lady, I had feared the worst! Are you all right? Has that ruffian done anything to you? I will wring his neck!”
“I am fine, Benson. It is you that I worried over. Oh, when you fell, I thought…”
“Let’s not dwell on that now, M’Lady. It would be best if we left at once.”
