Toward Sophia!
He seemed to forget about Peaches for a moment and scratched and clawed at the floor in futility.
Sophia pressed backwards but was impeded by a brick wall. This was not an alleyway at all, but a cavity between the buildings, about three feet wide and three feet deep.
The cage continued tilting forward and Sophia huddled down, her body wrapped around Peaches.
She prepared to be crushed.
* * *
Captain Devlin Brookeswas in a better mood than usual today. Just that morning he’d signed papers finalizing the purchase of a property near Surrey that he’d coveted for most of his adult life. Which was considerable, he grimaced to himself, at the near-ancient age of nine and twenty.
But he felt older than his actual years — military life did that to a man.
Yesterday, he’d sold off his commission. He was a civilian now.
The incident last month with the Earl of Nottingham had given him the nudge he’d needed to sell out. The poor bastard had taken a sword to the bollocks, damndest thing he’d ever seen. The tragic wound had not even happened on the battlefield.
Witnessing it, however, seeing the man’s life change in an instant, had stirred something inside of Dev.
He’d seen enough violence for ten lifetimes.
As nephew to a duke and no title to inherit, military service had been expected of him. He’d served for eleven years and felt he’d done his duty to both country and family. He was wont to pursue something of a peaceful existence. The estate near Surrey, Dartmouth Place, would allow him to do just that.
He might even marry.
But he needn’t rush. He could pop up to London for a Season sometime in the future, after he’d settled. Perhaps by then he would feel compelled to take on a wife. Or conceivably he would meet a young lady who already resided in the country.
Yes, that might be for the best, a country lass.
No hurry, though. He hunched his shoulders and stretched his back. The hours he’d spent with the solicitors that morning had left him feeling stiff. In addition to that, the civilian clothing he’d donned this morning felt unnatural. Since selling his commission, he’d no longer wear a uniform.
Just as he began considering the conversation he must have with his uncle and father, a loud clamoring commotion — Was that barking? And screaming, yes screaming — interrupted his contemplative stroll.
The sight that met him around the corner presented more than a hint of Bedlam.
Were those circus wagons? Oh, hell, a caravan of exotic animals. And one of them had tipped over onto the side of two buildings.
The situation would not be dire, really, except for the fact that the toppled wagon contained a full-grown lion.
Ferocious sounds arose from within the vehicle. And from behind it, barking. What in the world? Through the cracks between building and vehicle, he spied a hint of blond ringlets and pastels and lace, the ominous indication that a debutante was in the vicinity.
Yet another girl, with darker hair, cautiously crouched a few feet from the vehicle. “Sophia, are you all right? Are you hurt? Can you answer me, Sophia?”
A few shabbily dressed men paced about.
It was the driver, Dev presumed, doing all of the cursing and yelling at the current state of his conveyance.
Dev assessed the situation and sprang into action.
The chaos would continue, most assuredly, if allowed to go on unabated. Approaching the scene, he ordered the driver to discontinue his volatile language. The driver cowered at Dev’s command and obediently shut his mouth. Dev then approached the lady hunkered beside the tipped-over wagon and crouched beside her.
“Your friend, madam? She is trapped behind the cage?”
She turned clear and steady eyes on him. “With her dog.”
Of course, except the barking had ceased along with the driver’s barrage of colorful language.
