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Dominic did not think the animal was beautiful. His ears were peculiar. One cocked up and the other hung down, almost covering one eye. Thankfully, he looked too dispirited to nip Torie’s fingers.

“He traveled a long way to London,” Valentine said. “At least four hundred fifty miles.” The twins’ new tutor had been horrified to discover that the children had only a rudimentary understanding of the United Kingdom, let alone the rest of the world. He’d set them to planning excursions and calculating miles.

The two looked at each other and chorused with delight, “Odysseus!”

“Oh, bloody hell,” Torie muttered. She looked up at Dominic. “I’m sorry.”

“This is going to happen, isn’t it?” he said wryly.

She laughed.

“How much for the lop-eared bunny?” Dominic asked.

“He’s unique,” Crouch began, so Dominic gave him a withering glance.

“I’ll give you him for a ha’penny, as this is his third market, and I can’t get rid of him. If I put him with others, they attack him, and no one wants to buy a rabbit by itself. They think he’s diseased, which he ain’t.”

Dominic gave him a shilling for honesty, and a penny for a rabbit cage, no matter how malodorous.

“I’ll wash a cage for you, special,” Crouch said, heading for the back of the shed. He unbolted a door and disappeared.

“I don’t know why he doesn’t keep that door open all the time and allow some air to pass through,” Torie muttered.

Crouch took far too long to return, although thankfully a breeze did begin moving through the hutch. Finally he showed up with a cage only slightly less dirty than those surrounding them. Whatever he’d been doing, it didn’t involve water.

“He eats veg,” Crouch told Valentine, who was taking a turn holding Odysseus. “Needs water regular and fresh veg every day, mind.” He tried to look virtuous even though anyone could look at his livestock and see that the poor creatures were suffering to the point of death.

“Right,” Dominic said. “Let’s return to the carriage, shall we?” He had an edgy feeling, his instincts warning him of danger, possibly because his lungs had taken all the insults they could manage.

No.

His instincts had been correct.

Torie and Florence walked out ahead of him.

“Dom!” Another lady’s voice would be thready with fear or shrieking with terror. Not hers.

He halted, putting his hand behind him to stop Valentine and Simons, who was carrying Odysseus in his new cage. Just outside, four men were spaced in a half circle, their teeth bared in the unmistakable grins of bullies.

Directly before the door was a man with a mouth like a lamprey, a sword strapped at his hip. Then there was a moonfaced bruiser holding a club, another man wearing an incongruous scrap of pink lace around his neck, and a yellow-eyed fellow who swayed as if he were drunk. The first man—presumably the leader—opened his eellike mouth to say something, but when Torie looked him over, her lip curled, he fell silent.

“Florence, behind me,” she said, pushing the girl through the door.

“Inside, Torie, children,” Dominic said calmly. His eyes moved among the men’s faces, memorizing their features in case any of them were smart enough to run. He’d have the constabulary on them later. “Simons!”

His groom appeared at his shoulder. “Crouch’s gone,” he muttered.

That blackguard had summoned his bully friends and then run off, planning to collect his share later, no doubt.

“Return to the carriage through the rear door,” Dominic said.

“Shall I send Mulberry back here?” Simons asked. But Dominic wanted his coachman and blunderbuss to guard the most precious things in his life.

“No need.” He put his hand on the glittering hilt of his rapier. “Can I help you, gentlemen?”

“His lordship is carrying a pretty toy,” the leader said, his eyes alight with malice. “Pinkie, wouldn’t you like to show that to your missus? My man Pinkie has an eye for lux’ry.”

“The blade is not as pretty as the hilt, but ’twill do to take your life,” Dominic said flatly, drawing his rapier. He never provoked an opponent in case they were driven to do something rash. He believed in giving them a chance to rethink or, if needed, say their prayers.