The Virtuous Ward - By Karla Darcy Page 0,35

Amity pounced on the offending article, snatching it off the cobblestones and glaring up at the choleric face of the man.

"For shame, you blackguard," Amity sneered, her voice an icy stream of contempt. "To treat this fine animal in such an inhumane manner."

The mare in question, drooped in her traces, unaware of the tumult raging over her head. Betta moved closer to her mistress as if her slight figure might protect the raging amazon who had so forgotten herself as to create a public disturbance.

"Miss Amity," Betta hissed in agony. "Do come away. What will his lordship say?"

"Stop your fussing, girl. Would you have me abandon a creature in need of protection?"

Amity waved her hand in the general direction of the pathetic animal in front of the cart. There was a bedraggled pink ribbon tied around her forelock that hung in tattered elegance over one eye. The malnourished mare was brown in color with a coat in dire need of grooming. There were patches of white around her neck where the rubbing harness had worn away the hair and spots of noisome splatters on her legs and chest. Her tail and mane were tangled and greasy, as dirty as the rest of the beast. But to Amity it made little difference if the horse were not a thoroughbred. She could not abide turning away from such a disgraceful sight.

"G'way with you!" the red faced man bellowed, staring belligerently at the red-haired miss. "Tis no affair of yourn."

"Of course it is," Amity said, drawing herself up with great dignity. "It is every citizen's concern to right the wrongs of injustice. England is not a country where one can pass by while a poor dumb beast is whipped. And a female at that. For shame."

"Bloody 'ell!" The carter threw down his reins and clambered out of the cart to stand towering over the impassioned young lady. "And gie me my whip, you interfering little..."

"Silence, you knave! Would you add blasphemy to your already long list of offences." Although Amity felt some slight danger from the outraged man, the press of a cold nose against her skirts alerted her to the presence of reinforcements and her courage was bolstered. "Belay that noise or I shall set my dog upon you."

Muffin, exhausted from his brisk walk, chose that particular moment to lie down. The carter guffawed, snatching his cap off to slap it with great force against his leg. This action caused a cloud of nauseous odor to escape from his filthy clothing and Amity stepped back in disgust.

"Gawd love ya, miss," the man roared in amusement. His mouth lolled open presenting a wide, gap-toothed grin. "You must be a bleedin' Bedlamite."

Amity recovered and glared up at the man. She raised the whip, poking the tip against the man's chest to emphasize her words. "Have you no conscience, man? The animal is blown. Beating her will gain you nothing but a dead horse."

"Give over, miss." The man flinched away from the point of the whip. "The 'orse is mine to deal with."

"You shall not beat her again, sirrah!"

Amity could feel Betta pulling on the sleeve of her pelisse but her compassion for the poor animal forced her to ignore her abigail. The loathsome carter glared at her and leaned forward until his face was close to her own. When he spoke the stench of his breath made her eyes water.

"Iffen I choose to beat 'er, I will. The 'orse is mine."

"I will not permit you to touch her," she snapped.

"The 'orse is mine!"

"Then I'll buy the bloody horse!" Amity shouted, exasperated beyond all measure.

The sound of applause greeted this salvo and Amity spun around in dismay. Her face flushed in horror as she realized the scene had drawn a crowd of spectators. Although she was mortified, she refused to back down and decided the sooner she finished the business the quicker she could get away. Reaching for her reticule, she tore open the strings and delved inside for some coins.

"How m-much?" she stammered, all too aware of the interested crowd pressing around her.

Seeing the embarrassment on the young girl's face, the crafty owner knew that revenge was close at hand. His face split in a toothy grin, enjoying her discomfort, he extended his grimy hand. "Two pounds," he announced with triumph.

"Well of all the gall," she snapped in returning anger. "You cannot be serious, man."

"Your very words were that the 'orse were a fine animal. She's worth every penny of the price."

"You must have