‘You wicked, wicked man!’ Helene cried. ‘Can’t you see the poor creature is exhausted? If you force it to go on, you will kill it…’
The man tried to throw her off, but Helene held on, struggling to catch hold of the stick and wrench it from his grasp. She was determined not to let go even though he was much stronger than she and obviously possessed of a nasty temper.
‘Damn you, wench,’ the man snarled. ‘Leave me be or it will be the worse for you!’ He managed to pull his arm free of her grasp and raised it again, intending, it seemed, to beat her instead of the donkey.
‘No, you don’t, sirrah!’ a man’s deep voice cried and the bully’s arm was caught, this time in a grip of steel. The vagabond growled and tried to free himself, but ended with his arm up against his back, his chest pressed against the side of the wagon. ‘If you do not want your arm broken, stop struggling.’
‘Let me be,’ the vagabond whined. ‘She attacked me, sir. I were only defending meself.’
‘Be quiet, rogue, or I’ll break your neck,’ the man commanded. His eyes moved to Helene. ‘Would you like to tell me what happened here, miss?’
‘He was beating that poor creature,’ Helene said. ‘You can see for yourself that it is half-starved—and that load is far too heavy. The poor beast is too exhausted to pull the cart another inch.’
‘Did you attack him?’ The man arched his brows.
‘I tried to stop him beating the donkey.’ Helene lifted her head proudly, refusing to be ashamed of her action.
‘I see…’ Max released the vagabond, turned him round and glared down at him. The vagabond opened his mouth, then shut it again. The newcomer was a gentleman and a rather large one, his expression threatening. ‘What have you to say for yourself, rogue?’
‘The stupid beast is useless. It is lazy and a worthless bag of bones. I have to beat it or it will not move.’
‘It might work better if you fed it occasionally,’ Lord Maximus Coleridge said wryly. ‘Here, take this in exchange for the animal and be off with you before I call the watch!’ He thrust a handful of gold coins at his victim. The vagabond stared at the money in astonishment, bit one of the coins to make sure it really was gold and then took off as fast as he could before the mad gentleman could change his mind.
‘That was too much. One of those coins must have been sufficient,’ Helene protested as the large gentleman began to undo the donkey’s harness, freeing it from its burden. She patted the donkey’s nose. ‘The poor thing. It must have had a terrible life.’
‘Yes, I dare say,’ Max said and frowned. He arched his eyebrows in enquiry. ‘What do you propose we should do with it now?’
‘Oh…’ Helene stared at him. ‘I am not sure, sir. The poor creature needs a good home and something to eat. It looks quite starved.’
‘I wonder if it would not be kinder to put a ball through its head and end its misery.’
‘No! You must not,’ Helene cried and then blushed as his dark grey eyes centred on her face. She thought him an extremely attractive man, large and powerful, and, it seemed, exactly the kind of man one could rely on in an emergency. ‘I mean…could you not have it taken to a stable? At least give this unfortunate beast a chance to recover…please?’
‘Helene…’ Emily had waited for her chance to cross the road. ‘Are you all right, my dear? I would have come sooner, but there was a press of carriages.’
‘Because we are blocking the road,’ Max said wryly. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Barton. I did not know that you were in town. I trust you are well—and Miss Royston?’
‘Lord Coleridge,’ Emily said and dipped in a slight curtsy. ‘We are both well. May I introduce Miss Henderson? Helene—Lord Coleridge. Helene and her mama are staying with us this Season, sir.’
‘My compliments to Miss Royston. I shall call,’ Max Coleridge said and turned his gaze back to Helene. ‘So, Miss Henderson—what do you suggest?’ He saw the pleading in her eyes. ‘I hope you are not suggesting that this flea-ridden beast should rub shoulders with my cattle…’
‘Could you not find a small corner for him in your stables, sir?’
‘Oh, no.’ Max shook his head. He turned his head and signalled to someone. A youth of perhaps fourteen years came running. ‘Jemmy, this lady wants us to take care of this donkey—what do you suggest we do with him?’
‘Sell ’im to the knacker’s yard, sir?’ the youth said and grinned.
‘Much as I think you may be right, I find myself unable to agree,’ Max replied, a twinkle in his eye. ‘I think you should take charge of him, Jemmy. I dare say we could find a corner for him somewhere.’
‘That bag of bones? You’re bamming me, milord,’ Jemmy said, staring at him in horror. ‘We’ll be the laughing stock of the ton, sir.’
‘I dare say,’ Max replied. ‘However, I do not intend to drive the wretched beast. Once it has recovered—if it recovers—we may find a better home. I shall make inquiries.’
‘You want me to get that thing ’ome?’ Jemmy was clearly horrified. ‘I dunno as it will move, sir.’
‘Do your best, Jemmy. I fear we are holding up the traffic.’ Max gave Helene a direct look. ‘I believe we should move out of the road—do you not think so?’
‘But the donkey…’ Helene moved on to the path, joining Emily and Lord Coleridge. Jemmy was trying to get the donkey to move without success. ‘I think you need a bribe.’ She saw a barrow boy selling vegetables and darted back across the road to buy a carrot from him. It was rather wrinkled and past its best, but she thought the donkey would be hungry enough to be tempted. She paused for a moment and then dodged between a cart and a man leading a horse, narrowly avoiding being run over by a coal cart. ‘Try tempting him forward with this.’ She handed her prize to the lad.
‘Give it ’ere, miss. I’ll have a go.’ Jemmy held the carrot under the donkey’s nose. It snickered and then made a loud noise, trying to grab the food and succeeding. ‘Blimey! He snatched it…’Jemmy’s mouth fell open.
He looked so astonished that Lord Coleridge gave a shout of laughter. He tossed the lad a gold coin. ‘I think you need to buy a large supply of treats,’ he said. ‘Be more careful next time.’
Jemmy caught the coin and started over the road. The donkey made an ear-shattering noise and trotted over the road after him. Discovering that there were many more carrots on the stall, it snatched another, and when the barrow boy yelled in anger, took off down the road at a run, Jemmy in hot pursuit.
‘Not quite as exhausted as we thought,’ Max said, highly amused. Helene stared at him indignantly as he laughed. He sobered as he caught the look in her eye. ‘Forgive me, Miss Henderson, but you have to admit that it was funny.’
‘Yes, it was,’ she said and the laughter suddenly bubbled up inside her. ‘Oh, dear, it seems I have cost you a great deal of money and a lot of trouble for nothing.’
‘Oh, no,’ Max told her. ‘To see that donkey with Jemmy in pursuit was worth far more than a few guineas, Miss Henderson. I do not know how he will live it down. I can only hope that my eloquence will be enough to retain his services—he may feel that he can no longer work for such a ramshackle fellow as myself.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘My groom awaits me patiently. Ladies—may I take you up in my curricle?’
‘Thank you, but we shall walk for the house is not far away,’ Helene said before Emily could reply. ‘It was kind of you to help us, sir—but we shall take up no more of your time.’
Max lifted his hat, his eyes bright with amusement. ‘I shall see you another