Shock morphed his expression, and he glanced down.
Lady Macbeth had gripped a button of his pantaloons near his ankle. “It bit me! Let go, you little bugger—” He rose his leg to shake her off and Lady Macbeth’s feet left the ground. She fought him and when she landed back down, she let go. His foot came back up and Gabby bolted into action, both palms outstretched and, without a single thought, shoved.
Shufflebottom’s arms flailed like a floundering bird as he lost his footing on the bank and plopped right into the Serpentine.
Gabby’s hand flew to her mouth. There were no words.
Lady Macbeth lifted her chin and trotted straight to Gabby, her lead dragging the ground behind her.
Gabby scooped her up. “You, naughty, naughty girl. What were you thinking running off like that?” she cooed.
“It bit me.” The astonishment on Shufflebottom's face was indescribable. “It could be rabid.”
“She is not rabid, nor is she deranged. Perhaps more murderous than I’d first believed. In any event, she’s the ideal companion.” Her voice was but a squeak.
Shufflebottom rose from the water like the rabid beast of which he accused Lady Macbeth. “You shoved me.” Mud covered his normally pristine attire, his cravat and shirt no longer sporting their starched and perfect ruffles.
Time to exit—somehow—with her own dignity intact. She kissed Lady Macbeth’s nose. “Thank you for helping me retrieve her, my lord,” she said quickly. “I must return to my party. Is your, um, valet nearby? I could send him over…” her voice trailed at the fury emanating from him.
“Of course, he’s not with me, you idiotic nitwit.” He brushed at his cravat, leaving a streak of mud.
Her own fury surfaced, and Lady Macbeth reacted. She let out a low growl and wriggled in Gabby’s hold. “I was protecting my own, sir. I will not hesitate to act again. Stay away from Lady Macbeth, or I shall let her take another chunk out of you.” She spun away and instantly spotted Lady Bentick striding for the northern corner of the park. Opposite where the unveiling was to occur.
Curious, Gabby set Lady Macbeth down and took her lead firmly within her grasp to follow the baroness.
Lady Bentick casted furtive glances over her shoulder. Gabby followed her gaze but from this distance she couldn’t tell who or what the woman was looking at or for whom.
Trepidation edged with dread curled through Gabby as she walked back toward the more populated area. She surveyed the rest of the crowd then stopped cold. Bentick was staring at her, contemplating her. Had he somehow realized she was his blackmailer? How could that be? She’d been so careful. Yet, her stomach lurched.
One disaster at a time was all she could manage. Gabby picked up her steps, hurrying after Lady Bentick, everything in her screaming to get to Hope House. She glanced about for Huntley; he stood with Sebastian, Kimpton, Brockway and Harlowe, then moved to Bentick.
It would take too long to reach him. She willed him to look her way.
Portman Square was just across from Hyde Park’s northeast corner. Sebastian’s footman, Davis, would be able to assist her. He would get word to James, tell him her reasons for abandoning the unveiling once she explained and, most importantly, if things turned truly dire, she would have his help physically.
Only, there wasn’t time. She caught up to Lady Bentick just as she entered a public hack. Shocking, since the woman’s nose was usually raised so high, she couldn’t see where she was walking. It was a wonder she hadn’t tripped and broken her foul neck.
Gabby reached the hack just before the cabby grabbed the door and launched Lady Macbeth and herself inside. “Hello, Lady Bentick. We thought to share a ride with you,” she panted, pushing a fallen lock of her hair from her face.
~~~
James leaned in with his hands clasped at his lower back, listening to Bentick wax poetic on a woman young enough to be his daughter. But James had ulterior motives. Bentick’s attention was riveted on Gabriella. Gabriella was marching across the greens, Lady Macbeth ensconced securely in her arms. The determination in her demeanor stopped him momentarily.
“Do you share in the profits Lady Huntley collects from her victims, my lord?”
It took James a minute for Bentick’s words to penetrate. He forced his attention from his wife to Bentick. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I’ve deduced that it was your wife who stole two hundred pounds from me. Are you going to deny it?”
James stared at the baron, his fingers flexing in and out of a fist as he considered how to handle the bastard’s gall. “No, I don’t believe I will. Your funds have been dispensed to the young woman you raped and left increasing with no means to take care of a situation she did not ask for.”
“I ought to sic Bow Street on the pair of you,” Bentick hissed.
“You can certainly try, but we both know my reputation will prevail. You’ll hurt no one but yourself and your family.” James couldn’t believe he sounded so calm. He surveyed the area. “Where is Lady Bentick? I think you’ll agree that she wouldn’t care to have your dirty little secrets aired with all the beau monde milling about.” Where was the baroness? She was nowhere in sight and James was sure he’d seen her not ten minutes past. The hair at his neck lifted.
Bentick sputtered, pulling James’s attention back. “How dare you.” His face turned scarlet in that way of someone who overindulged in spirits. He sneered. “You think just because you sit in the House of Lords you are so much better than men like Stanford and me? I have news for you, Huntley, I have it on excellent authority that your wife stabbed Stanford. She’ll not escape the hangman’s noose.”
“Careful what you spout, old man,” James warned him softly.
