Lydia accepted the hand, careful not to pull him down as she got to her feet. “I thought I would be helpingyouup,” she said, pointing to the spot where he had been lying. She brushed off her dress and righted her bonnet. “Thank you. Are you certain you’re all right?”
“Me?” He jabbed himself with his thumb. “I’m all of a piece. Don’t worry ’bout me none. Ol’ Bill gets that way once in a while. Saw that he was goin’ to cuff me and I just took a little clobber on the chin. Laid there moanin’ like for effect. No sense in him taking another jab at me.”
“That was very wise of you,” Lydia said. She tried to put a little weight on her ankle but the effort made her pale. Her smile was gritty. “Could you help me onto the sidewalk there—” She broke off, wanting a name to put to the child’s face.
“M’name’s Kit. Christopher really, but Bill don’t like the name much.” He slipped an arm around Lydia’s waist and let her lean on his bony shoulder for support.
“Bill is a relative?” she asked, beginning to form a better understanding of the fight.
Kit shrugged. “M’sister’s husband. Only m’sister’s been dead these past six months. Bill’s got the pub and he got me. Only he didn’t want me. We have a regular blue, like the one we just had, every three or four days—whenever Bill gets shikkered. The grog’s no good for that one. Bound to feel crook later. How about you, Miss? You’re looking pretty crook yourself. What did you hurt when you fell?”
“I’ve twisted my ankle.”
“Here now,” he said solicitously. “I’ll get a carriage for you. Send you to the infirmary over on Macquarie. Some quack there will set you right again.” He started to run off, stopped, and backpedaled to where he left Lydia standing. “I’ll need some coin, miss. No driver will give me a second look if I can’t show him some coin.”
Lydia smiled faintly. She knew she was being robbed and she still gave up two golden sovereigns willingly. She closed Kit’s grimy hands over the money and bid him take it. He disappeared around a corner and into an alley and Lydia limped to a stone retaining wall farther down the street and leaned against it.
She had no idea how long she stood there, her ankle swollen and throbbing, her head aching with pain only slightly less than what she felt in her foot. Nathan saw her first. He stood on the opposite corner, watching her, forcing back the anger that had driven him up and down Sydney’s streets looking for her. He had imagined all manner of trouble that she could have found. That she was even in The Rocks without an escort was excuse enough to turn her over his knee. Couldn’t she see the place was a haven for harpies and sailors who had just crawled up from Sydney Cove, fresh from a month or more at sea? Didn’t she have the sense to know she could have been accosted even in daylight?
Lydia didn’t see Nathan until he was less than ten feet in front of her. His wolf’s eyes pinned her to the wall and it didn’t matter in the least. She couldn’t have moved anyway.
“You have some explaining to do,” he said softly when he came to stand directly in front of her.
She nodded, but didn’t say anything.
Her silence lit Nathan’s short fuse. He placed his hands on either side of her shoulders and gave her a hard shake. “Look at me, Liddy! Are you ever inclined to act as if you have cotton between your ears? Have you taken notice where your feet have led you? This is The Rocks, Lydia. There’s no part of Sydney more squalid or dangerous. It’s like Portsmouth Square, only the dangers are real this time. If you wanted to explore this morning, you should have wakened me, or taken a carriage, or asked Henry where you might walk safely. Instead, you cast aside all manner of good sense and walk straight into a den of larrikins. These men would as soon throw up your skirts as look at you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Lydia bit her lower lip, her eyes downcast. Her face was the pale gray color of ash. “I understand,” she said quietly. “Will you take me home now, Nathan? I don’t feel well.”
The haze of anger cleared and Nathan realized she did not look well, either. His hands no longer gripped, but supported. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Just a small sprain, I think. It’s nothing. Can we go back to the hotel?” Out of the corner of her eye she saw the slow approach of a carriage.
“So somethingdidhappen,” Nathan said, disgusted. “Here, let me see. Which foot is it?” He hunkered down and lifted the hem of Lydia’s gown. His fingers were a mere fraction of an inch away from her ankle when he was attacked from behind.
Nathan toppled, set off balance by a pair of thin arms wrapped tightly around his neck and a pair of bony knees jammed hard into his waist. He tried to twist, grab at his assailant, but when he moved, so did his attacker. He did manage to reach over his shoulder and get a handful of hair. For his pains he was bitten on the side of his neck.
“What the bloody hell?” he said, grinding out the words between clenched teeth.
A clear, high-pitched voice answered him. “You ain’t fit to kiss her foot! Can’t you see she’s not some harpy?”
Lydia’s hands covered most of her face. She watched the scene played out through splayed fingers. The carriage driver had a good view from his perch and there were faces in all the windows across the street.
Kit screeched on, rolling onto the street with Nathan still in his clutches. “She’s probably got some rich sod for a husband who would tear your eyes out for looking at her!”
“Whose eyes do you think you’re tearing out?” Nathan demanded tightly. He rolled on his back and pinned Kit under him, making the boy’s fight quite ineffective. “Take your bloody knees out of my side and your rum daddles out of my pockets!”
Rather than giving up, Kit looked to Lydia for help. “I’ve got him now, miss. Hit him with your bag!”
Lydia’s hands slipped from her face. Kit’s large eyes appealed to her while Nathan simply glared. She spoke to the urchin. “Heismy husband, Kit.”
“Good of you to tell him,” Nathan said as the grip on his neck eased. He got up, brushed himself off, and surveyed the onlookers who had paused in their steps to see what was going on. The look on Nathan’s face sent them hurrying away and the faces in the windows disappeared behind yellowing curtains. Only the driver remained with his carriage.
Nathan held out a hand to the boy and pulled him to his feet. “Kit, is it?” he asked. The boy nodded. “Well then, Kit, let’s suppose you give me back the ten-pound note you took out of my pocket, the platinum watch fob, and—” Nathan checked his vest, “—the sovereign.”
Hearing all of that, Lydia looked down at her hand to make certain she still had her ring. It was there, though she realized now she had been fortunate. She watched Kit hand his booty back to Nathan and thought about the pain in her ankle so she wouldn’t disgrace Kit or Nathan by laughing.
“I thought you were going to hurt her,” Kit explained with youthful bravado.
