Christa looked at him with interest but decided she must pass up that interesting potential conversation for the harsh realities. “Monsieur, do you know if there is a magistrate nearby? Perhaps one who can help me recover my possessions from the house? All that I own in the world is still in there.”
“You mean they literally threw you out without even letting you get your things? Outrageous!” A wicked gleam came into Alex’s eyes. “I assume that time is of the essence. Your possessions may be rifled while you are attempting to get the law to help you. Shall I see if I can persuade them to let you in long enough to collect your clothes?”
The girl’s quickly suppressed flash of anxiety gave Alex a sudden insight into what it was to be alone and at the mercy of hostile employers. In the navy, even the humblest sailor had some rights, but an Englishman’s home was his castle, and great crimes might occur behind these blandly respectable facades. “I will go with you,” he offered.
Relieved, Christa gave a decisive nod. Her instincts said she could trust this man, and he was right that the sooner she reclaimed her possessions, the better. “Lead on,monsieur!”
They walked up the steps together and he banged the heavy knocker. While they waited for the door to open, he asked, “By the way, what is your name?”
She bobbed a quick curtsy. “Christine Bohnet, at your service. I am called Christa by my friends.” She was pleased that he pronounced her name correctly when he repeated it; he was the first person in two months to make the effort. At that moment, the door swung open to reveal James: a very angry James, still on duty in spite of a rapidly swelling jaw and a smudge of blood at the corner of his mouth.
Seeing her, he gave a thick-tongued growl, “Why, you little—”
The footman was starting to reach for Christa when her rescuer’s voice cut at him like a whiplash. “Permit me to introduce myself. I am Captain Lord Alexander Kingsley, Viscount Kingsley, and a magistrate of the county of Suffolk. We are here to collect Mademoiselle Bohnet’s possessions.”
James stopped and blinked stupidly at the man he had overlooked. The little trollop had found a protector with amazing speed. His brain, never very quick, ground to a halt as he tried to decide whether to let them in. The law was the law . . .
“One side, my man.” Alex’s voice had the ring of authority that came of commanding hundreds of roughneck sailors, most of whom would rather not be in the Royal Navy. He brushed past James, with a gleeful Christa skipping along next to him. An officer and a viscount!Le bon Dieuhad provided for her safety very well.
“This way, my lord.” She led him to the back of the house and up the servants’ stairs. Alex was amazed at how tight the passage was; he had sneaked up the back stairs of the Kingsley houses when he was a boy but had been considerably smaller then. As they climbed, Christa asked over her shoulder, “Are you really a magistrate?”
“Not exactly, but my father was. Like most men of property. I expect I can become a magistrate if I want to. Besides, I’ve been administering the king’s justice at sea for years.”
By the time they reached the attics, Alex was puffing and his left side ached sharply, though Christa showed no signs of strain. The room she led him to reminded him of the minuscule cabin of a junior officer on a frigate. His eyes were still adjusting to the increased light of the room when he saw Christa kneel at the side of a small child who had been cleaning the floor. Putting her arms around the little girl, she said, “I am so glad you are here, Miranda, or I could not have said good-bye.”
The child said falteringly, “Good-bye? You are leaving?”
Ignoring Alex’s presence, Christa hugged the thin little body. “I have no choice,ma pauvre. Lady Pomfret has dismissed me, and I must pack and leave immediately.”
There was such a look of stark tragedy on Miranda’s little face that Alex shifted uncomfortably. No one should be that vulnerable. He spoke for the first time. “Bring her along, Christa. My sister needs an abigail and I have a whole house to staff. I can certainly find a position for Miranda, and if my sister approves, for you as well.”
The two faces turned to him with an identical look of hope. Christa sprang to her feet and asked the child, “Do you wish to come with me?”
“Oh,yes, Christa!” There was a look of disbelieving excitement on the child’s face.
Christa patted her on the back. “Go quickly and get your things.”
Miranda whizzed out of the room and Christa shot a grateful look at Alex as she pulled a portmanteau from beneath the bed and started efficiently packing. “You are very generous, Lord Kingsley. Even if your sister does not engage me, I think Miranda will be better off in a house run by you. The Pomfret residence is . . . not a happy place.”
He had no trouble believing her statement. Changing the subject, Alex asked, “Were you responsible for the damage to the footman downstairs?”
She colored guiltily. “Indeed, my lord, I am not usually a troublemaker. But the footman sought to take up where his master had left off, and I was quite out of patience by then.”
“An understatement. Your skill at repelling unwanted boarders is impressive—remind me not to attack you.”
Christa looked at him a bit uncertainly but decided he was joking. She closed her portmanteau with a snap just as Miranda scurried up, her total worldly goods contained in a wrapped shawl. Leaving Lady Pomfret’s purple silk gown and plumes for whoever wished to take them, Christa led the way down the narrow stairs for the last time.
When they reached the street, Alex said, “I’ll call a hackney. It’s some distance to my house in St. James’s Square.”
Christa said diffidently, “If you don’t mind, my lord, Miranda and I can walk if you give me the direction. It is such a lovely day, and she scarcely ever gets outside.” Looking down, she asked, “Would you like that, Miranda?”
“Oh, yes!” Confined first to an orphanage and then to the Pomfrets’, Miranda found the city a source of teeming delights.
“You’re right—it is far too pleasant a day to be in a stuffy carriage,” Alex agreed as he reached for her portmanteau. Christa resisted but he brushed her objections aside. “Take Miranda’s bundle. My time is my own, and if you’ve no objection, I’ll join you.”
Christa raised an eyebrow and murmured something in French as they started to head south. “Sorry, I didn’t hear that,” Alex said. He expected that it was not intended for his ears, but she obligingly translated.
“I said that I would have gotten myself thrown out sooner had I known how fortunate I would be in my rescuer.”
