Lady Rogue (12 page)

Chapter Fourteen

A gleam of perspiration shone on Garrick Seton's bare chest and arms, emphasizing the rippling muscles that made him look more gladiator than architect.  His
golden-brown hair was touseled as he got up from the mat.  "I'm said to be handy with my fists, but you're a match for me, Richard," he said, running a hand over his jaw.  "You pack a mean punch."

"As do you."   Wiping his bloodied nose the other man stuck out his hand, grasping Garrick's in a firm handshake, appraising him with admiration.  "I'd call this one a draw."

"Unless you want to go on until there is a win."  Garrick grinned, daring the other man to continue.  Not until there was a knockout could a man be credited with winning the match. 

"Do I look like a fool?  No, I'll just thank my lucky stars that I'm still on my feet and let it go at that.  You were fighting like a man possessed today.  I've been boxing for ten years an
d I've never faced a more fearsome foe."  He gave a pained groan then playfully slapped Garrick on the back to show that there were no hard feelings.  "One would never believe you make sketching your life's work.  You seem to have the soul of a veritable pirate at times."

A grimace flickered over Garrick's face.  "A characteristic I try to subdue, old man."  He was not always as well controlled as he might have liked
, and he considered that a flaw.  Perhaps that was one reason he had taken so quickly to boxing.  It allowed him to vent for his pent up, turbulent emotions.  God knew he'd been like a boiling kettle since that night on the docks.  "Trying to unleash some of my own private demons I suppose.  Sorry if I took out my frustrations on you, Rich."

"I threw a few wild punches too.  But then we're not playing tennis, Garrick.  Scuffing up our chins, noses and knuckles is the name of this g
ame.  You were only responding to my punches."  He reached for two towels hanging on a peg nearby and threw one to Garrick, watching as Garrick wiped himself off.  "Next time, however, I won't be so gentle."

"Gentle?"  Garrick chuckled as the two men walked back to the wash room.  Stripping off his
trousers, Garrick bathed himself by pouring a basin of cold water over his head and letting it  run down over his body.  His thick brown hair curled rebelliously about his face and he tried to groom it into some semblance of order with his fingers.

"Is it a woman....?"

"What?"  Understanding what Richard was alluding to, he shook his head.  "Not the way you mean it."  Drying himself off and putting on his shirt, breeches and boots, he revealed  not only the entire story  of the docks to the other man but about the girl who had taken refuge in his carriage.  "I suppose until one has dealings with those in such circumstances, it's easy to put it out of mind.  Now I can't seem to forget."

"Well, I have no doubt but that the next time you meet such blackguards
you'll
win the day."  Richard flexed his muscles, making great show of his aching muscles.  "Aye, that you will."

"Will what?"  Ollie swept into the small room looking from one to the other, obviously curious about their conversation.

"Beat the devil out of any ruffians I meet, Ollie," Garrick answered.  "And if you were wise, you'd take up boxing too.  One never knows just whom one might meet."

"Me?  Box?"  Oliver's horrified expression
made the other men laugh. "It's barbaric.   I'll just make due with the runners if you please."

Richard winked at Garrick.  "Why, it's an enjoyable sport, Oliver.  You might be surprised."

"Ha!  Acting like a heathen you mean?  I'm surprised that old Gar here indulges. Besides, life was meant to be enjoyed.  Why, just look at all there is for a man to amuse himself at."

It was true.  In
London the activities for those of consequence were many and varied, from prizefights to opera. For those whose only problem was to amuse themselves and defy boredom there were entertainments for the day as well as the night. In addition there were clubs, clubs clubs.   London was full of private clubs for this and for that. 

"You should join a club, Gar." Taking out his snuffbox, he opened the lid and stared inside.

"It wouldn't be worth my while, Ollie."

"I know.  You're a busy man."  Partaking of the snuff, he sneezed. "As for me, it gives me a place to escape from Mother and Aunt Margaret.  They're always badgering me. Heaven help us all if women are ever allowd inside." 

"They want what is best for you, Ollie."

"They want me to be ‘sensible’
like you."  Leaning against the wall, Oliver wrinkled his nose.  "I wonder if they would consider you such if they could see you now.  Fighting like some naughty schoolboy."

"Boxing.  There's a difference.  It's a gentleman's sport, Oliver."  Richard was understandably defensive. 

"The closest I ever get to boxing is putting money on the outcome.  Which reminds me......there's a game of whist going on in the back room of my club.  I was hoping you'd join me."   Oliver's principal pasttime was gaming, that and frequenting the races at Newmarket to place his bets.

Garrick shook his head.  "You know how I feel about gambling."  It was an opinion formed from experience.  Garrick himse
lf had once been bitten by the ‘bug’ when he was just a lad and had only narrowly escaped ruin.  He realized that Oliver was ensnared the moment he picked up his first deck of cards and hoped it wouldn't bring his friend to financial calamity.

"That's because you just don't understand!  You, Aunt Margaret and my mother.  Pooh!"  Holdi
ng his hands together at chest level he lapsed into  a falsetto tone, mimicking his female relatives.  "Gambling is a villainous chaos of dice and drunkennes."

Garrick threw back his head and laughed uproarously for it was a perfect imitation of Oliver's mother.  "Ollie, you are incorrigible!"

"Yes, I am and damned proud of it."  The sudden burst of bravado faded and an embarrassed flush stained his face.  "But I seem to be a bit short of cash. Of course if you felt in a benevolent mood, you might make me a loan.  You always carry that blasted money pouch with you and I've never seen you take out even a farthing."

"That money belongs to someone else."  A faraway look came into Garrick's eye as he remembered the girl who had left the purse in his carriage.  It  had been stole
,n to be sure, but since he couldn't locate the owner, he wanted her to have it.  Certainly she had looked in need.  That was why he had chased her the other day at Convent Garden, but she had run as fast as if the devil himself were at her heels.  Strange little waif--and yet she tugged at his heart.

"You don't even have a shilling you could loan me?"  Ollie held the expression of a woeful hound.

"Ollie......!"

"All right!  All right!  You are so tight sometimes, Gar, that I fear you might squeak."

"It's not that...."

"I know. I know.  You don't approve.  But you don't realize how exciting gaming can be.  Women, wine, fame, even ambition sate now and again.  But every turn of the cards and cast of the dice keeps the gamester alive.  It's much like having sex with a stimulating woman and coming to climax a hundred times in one night."

"I doubt that, my friend!"  Richard broke into gales of laughter.  "If you think, that you haven't met the right woman."

"Pooh!" Ollie
answered defensively behind his hand, "One can game longer than one can do just about anything else.  Eh what?"   A mischievous gleam came into his eye.  "I'll tell you what, Richard old boy.  I'll toss a coin.  I'm willing to gamble, you see.  If it's heads you can stake me to a game, if It's tails I'll....I'll listen to one of your lessons on boxing."

Garrick shook his head.  There was no changing Ollie.  He gave Richard a look of warning but saw that the other man had succumbed to Oliver's challange.  With a shrug of his shoulders he walked to the door
, leaving the two men behind to work out the wager.  Pushing the thick wooden portal open, he walked out into the sunshine.  He'd best enjoy the day, he thought, for sunny days were all too brief.  Soon there would be fog and rain and muddy streets.  Oh, how he hated for summer to end.  There were only two more weeks left of summer.  Perhaps he'd indulge himself.  A carriage ride with a beautiful woman would be a pleasant way to spend a day.

"Sir...?"  A sad-eyed
flower girl crossed the street, giving Garrick a hopeful smile.  "Vi'lets, penny a bunch."  In a generous mood, he bought two  tiny bouqets.  "Thanks, dearie." 

Engrossed in
the beauty of the day, he walked along, coming to an area where elegant shops lined the street.  It was then he saw her, peering intently into a millener's window at a row of hats.  Hurriedly he crossed the street. 

Dawn was so preoccupied in her thoughts that she did not see the tall shadow that fell across her p
ath.  Glancing up in surprise she found herself staring into her gentleman's deep blue eyes.  "Blimey!"  In fear she broke into a run.

"Wait!"  Narrowly escaping the wheels of a carriage, Garrick gave chase.  She was as quick as a rabbit and as agile as a cat, eluding him quite skillfully.  He ran a full ten blocks before he closed the distance between them
, and that only because a conglomerate of wagons blocked her way.

"I didn't do anything! I didn't!" she yelled at him.  "Go awaiy!"  Dawn was still edgy because of Black John's fate. Surely hers would be a like fate.

"Of course you didn't.  I just want to talk with you, that's all."  He tried to allay her fright with a smile.

Seeing his expression
, she slowed down just a bit.  Could he be trusted?  She wasn't certain.  Certainly the last time she'd been in his company he had been hostile, hurling all sorts of foolish accusations. What did he want from her this time?

"I was just looking in the window, I was......" she threw over her shoulder.

"I know I saw you....."  He was out of breath.  She'd led him on a merry chase  "I have something for you.  Please, stop."

"Something for me?"  She eyed him quizzically, allowing him to catch up. He didn't recognize her, didn't connect her with the woman on the wharf.  That was a relief. Breathing i
n deeply, she let out a sigh.  Oh, he did look so fine dressed as he was.  No coat this time, the collar open to reveal the light brown hair on his chest. Such a handsome bloke.  Enough so to turn her knees to jelly.  "Wot?"

Garrick held out the  nosegays.  "These, for one thing."

"Violets?  For me?"  No one had ever given her flowers before.  She was deeply touched and giddily conscious of the warmth of his hand as he handed the bouquets to her.  Just the touch of his fingers evoked a deep longing within her.  Why did he always make her feel all tingly?  "They're....they're lovely."  She breathed deeply of their perfume. "The fragrance tickles me nose!"

Garrick laughed softly. She was surely the most exquisite little creature he had ever beheld and promised to be a great beauty when she blossomed.  "Yes, I suppose it does. I've always been partial to violets."  His expression sobered.  "I've been worried about yo
u."  The thought that this beautiful child might come to a bad end had haunted him.  Strange, how she  brought out his protective instincts.

"Worried?"  Dawn stiffened.  What did he mean? "I can taike care of meself," she
said bristling.

"I'm sure you can, but I've been think
ing  alot about you nevertheless.” In spite of her tender years, her loveliness drew him.  She should be dressed in silks, not rags. Beautiful was the word to describe this little urchin.  Her skin was soft, unblemished, her cheeks like the petals of a pink rose.  Eyes as green as a new leaf stared back at him.  He found himself wanting to pull off her mob cap and appease his curiosity about her hair.  What color was it?

"Thinking about m
e? Yer was?"  She stared at him openmouthed, her astonishment obvious.  "Gor, I don't know why ye'd do that."  The very thought pleased her, for the dear Lord knew she'd spent enough hours dreaming of him.

He was intrigued by the look of tender passion so innocently revealed in her eyes.  The child could certainly steal his heart if he gave her half the chance.  "I wanted to return this," he said gently.  Reaching inside his coat pocket he pulled forth the leather money pouch.  "You seem to have left it behind when last we parted.  That's why I was running after you, to give it back."

"Give it back?"  She flushed hotly.  Again she adopted a belligerant attitude. "It isn't mine as well yer know."  Oh, if only he realized what the loss of that purse had nearly cost her. 

"I know it
’s not yours."  He had wrestled with the situation and had come to a decision.  He wanted to do something for her. Something that would not injure her pride, for he could tell by the set of her chin that she had that in full measure.  "But since I have not a clue as to its rightful owner, and since it most definitely is
not
mine and
you
left it behind, I consider that you should take it."  It would insure her wellbeing for at least a little while, he thought.  "Please......"

It was much too tempting.  It was like the answer to a prayer!  She'd have enough to begin making her hats.  Even so she eyed him warily  as she clutched at it, fearful that there were strings attached to his generous offer.