ground.”
“And his eye to the keyhole,” said his wife, abruptly losing interest.
“But mark my words,” went on Sir Edward, “nothing will come of her ambitions. Lord Peter is an impressionable young man but his elder brother will soon put a stop to any shenanigans.”
The elder brother had, in fact, dismissed the matter of Polly from his mind. He had just received a letter from Peter, who seemed to be head over heels in love with the Honorable Miss Jane Bryant-Pettigrew, daughter of Colonel, Sir Percy Bryant-Pettigrew, at present stationed in India. The duchess was ecstatic. A respectable marriage was just what Peter needed to settle him down and the manager of the Bengal office had reported that Peter was
working
, actually working, which all went to show what the influence of a good woman could do.
The marquis was strolling through Shepherd’s Market on his way to his club one fine Saturday in autumn. There was an exhilarating tinge of cold in the sunny air. Huge bunches of chrysanthemums stood in tubs outside the florists and a faint smell of roast chestnuts scented the sooty air.
An organ-grinder was churning out “Tales from the Vienna Woods” with relish while his little red-capped monkey nipped nimbly in and out of the crowd, rattling its cup with all the verve of a professional beggar.
The marquis stopped with the crowd to watch the little animal’s antics. Then out of the corner of his eyes he noticed a group of rough-looking youths over by the chestnut-seller.
They had heated a penny until it was red hot and with one deft motion of the tongs, one of them threw it toward the monkey. Everything seemed to happen in a flash. There was a groan of dismay from the crowd as the monkey nipped forward eagerly to catch the burning-hot penny. Then, as the coin was in midair, a very beautiful girl leaped from the crowd and caught the coin in her gloved hand and, seizing her umbrella, ran to the group of youths and began beating them soundly about their heads.
The monkey’s rescuer was none other than Miss Polly Marsh.
The youths had recovered from their shock and showed every sign of fighting back. The crowd was cheering Polly noisily.
The marquis stepped forward and put his arms around the enraged Polly and dragged her away from the youths. She twisted angrily in his arms and looked up only to see the lazy mocking eyes of the Marquis of Wollerton looking down into her own.
“Please be calm, Miss Marsh,” he begged, releasing her. “They will not try that trick again… at least not today.”
“Wretches!” said Polly.
He noticed that one gloved hand was clenched into a fist and gently opened the fingers. The red-hot coin had burned a hole in her glove and a blister was already beginning to form on her palm.
“You must have that attended to, Miss Marsh,” he said gently. “We are only a step from Brown’s Hotel. They serve an excellent tea there and I can find someone to attend to your hand. Would you care to join me?”
Would she care to join her future brother-in-law? “Of course,” said Polly with a radiant smile. He hailed a passing four-wheeler and ushered Polly in. The enthusiastic crowd gave the monkey-rescuer three hearty cheers as the carriage pulled away, and Polly grinned and waved.
The marquis looked at her thoughtfully. When she wasn’t trying to be a correct young lady, there was something very young, vulnerable, and endearing about Miss Marsh. Then he noticed her frock and his thin black brows snapped together. Polly was wearing a smart walking dress of scarlet velvet, cut with the hand of an expert. Now where, mused the marquis, had Miss Marsh managed to afford to buy a frock like that?
Brown’s Hotel in Albemarle Street was quickly reached and while Polly was having her hand bandaged, he ordered afternoon tea and looked forward to solving the mystery of Miss Marsh.
Polly soon entered cheerfully to join him. Brown’s Hotel was not nearly as terrifying as she had
“And his eye to the keyhole,” said his wife, abruptly losing interest.
“But mark my words,” went on Sir Edward, “nothing will come of her ambitions. Lord Peter is an impressionable young man but his elder brother will soon put a stop to any shenanigans.”
The elder brother had, in fact, dismissed the matter of Polly from his mind. He had just received a letter from Peter, who seemed to be head over heels in love with the Honorable Miss Jane Bryant-Pettigrew, daughter of Colonel, Sir Percy Bryant-Pettigrew, at present stationed in India. The duchess was ecstatic. A respectable marriage was just what Peter needed to settle him down and the manager of the Bengal office had reported that Peter was
working
, actually working, which all went to show what the influence of a good woman could do.
The marquis was strolling through Shepherd’s Market on his way to his club one fine Saturday in autumn. There was an exhilarating tinge of cold in the sunny air. Huge bunches of chrysanthemums stood in tubs outside the florists and a faint smell of roast chestnuts scented the sooty air.
An organ-grinder was churning out “Tales from the Vienna Woods” with relish while his little red-capped monkey nipped nimbly in and out of the crowd, rattling its cup with all the verve of a professional beggar.
The marquis stopped with the crowd to watch the little animal’s antics. Then out of the corner of his eyes he noticed a group of rough-looking youths over by the chestnut-seller.
They had heated a penny until it was red hot and with one deft motion of the tongs, one of them threw it toward the monkey. Everything seemed to happen in a flash. There was a groan of dismay from the crowd as the monkey nipped forward eagerly to catch the burning-hot penny. Then, as the coin was in midair, a very beautiful girl leaped from the crowd and caught the coin in her gloved hand and, seizing her umbrella, ran to the group of youths and began beating them soundly about their heads.
The monkey’s rescuer was none other than Miss Polly Marsh.
The youths had recovered from their shock and showed every sign of fighting back. The crowd was cheering Polly noisily.
The marquis stepped forward and put his arms around the enraged Polly and dragged her away from the youths. She twisted angrily in his arms and looked up only to see the lazy mocking eyes of the Marquis of Wollerton looking down into her own.
“Please be calm, Miss Marsh,” he begged, releasing her. “They will not try that trick again… at least not today.”
“Wretches!” said Polly.
He noticed that one gloved hand was clenched into a fist and gently opened the fingers. The red-hot coin had burned a hole in her glove and a blister was already beginning to form on her palm.
“You must have that attended to, Miss Marsh,” he said gently. “We are only a step from Brown’s Hotel. They serve an excellent tea there and I can find someone to attend to your hand. Would you care to join me?”
Would she care to join her future brother-in-law? “Of course,” said Polly with a radiant smile. He hailed a passing four-wheeler and ushered Polly in. The enthusiastic crowd gave the monkey-rescuer three hearty cheers as the carriage pulled away, and Polly grinned and waved.
The marquis looked at her thoughtfully. When she wasn’t trying to be a correct young lady, there was something very young, vulnerable, and endearing about Miss Marsh. Then he noticed her frock and his thin black brows snapped together. Polly was wearing a smart walking dress of scarlet velvet, cut with the hand of an expert. Now where, mused the marquis, had Miss Marsh managed to afford to buy a frock like that?
Brown’s Hotel in Albemarle Street was quickly reached and while Polly was having her hand bandaged, he ordered afternoon tea and looked forward to solving the mystery of Miss Marsh.
Polly soon entered cheerfully to join him. Brown’s Hotel was not nearly as terrifying as she had
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