'I believe,' Lady Freyja said in strident tones that must be carrying clearly to every farthest corner of the room, 'he would be more appropriately named the Marquess of Hellmere.' She pointed one kid-gloved finger directly at his chest. 'This man does not even deserve the name of gentleman.'
There was an audible gasp from all around them, followed by shushing sounds. No one wanted to miss a word of this delicious scandal that was developing before their very eyes.
'My dear Lady Freyja-' his grandmother began, sounding quite dismayed.
'This man,' Lady Freyja continued, 'likes to amuse himself by preying upon innocent, helpless women.'
There was a swell of shocked sound followed again by more frantic shushing sounds.
'I do beg you, Lady Freyja-' His grandmother tried again.
Lady Freyja poked her finger, like a blunt dagger, into Joshua's chest.
'I warned him that I would discover his identity and expose him to Bath society for the villain he is. I vowed I would have him ejected from the society of decent people.' She poked him with her finger again. 'If you thought I was bluffing, my man, you were sorely mistaken.'
'Again,' he said, smiling sheepishly and calculating that the expression would further enrage her. 'I really ought to know better by now, ought I not?'
There was no further pretense of anyone's strolling. Even the water tables had been deserted. Joshua realized that he and his grandmother and Lady Freyja Bedwyn had become isolated in the middle of a rough circle that had formed about them. Their audience seemed about equally divided between those who were acutely embarrassed that a lady should behave with such lack of decorum and those who gazed with hostile eyes at the man who preyed upon innocent, helpless women.
But someone was coming to their rescue-or to join the fray-a man with self-important air come to deal with the sudden crisis. Joshua recognized him as James King, the master of ceremonies at the Upper Assembly Rooms, who had called upon him two afternoons ago at Great Pulteney Street. It was the man's job to maintain Bath's gentility and see to it that every visitor was welcomed and properly entertained-and that every visitor kept the strict rules of decorum.
Even marquesses and the daughters of dukes.
'My lady,' he said, addressing Lady Freyja, 'surely you are mistaken. This gentleman is the Marquess of Hallmere and grandson of Lady Potford, a longtime resident of our city. Perhaps this slight misunderstanding can be cleared up quietly outside?'
His voice was courteous, but it held a thread of steel. He took Lady Freyja by the elbow, but she shrugged him off and looked at him along the length of her nose as if he were a worm.
'This slight misunderstanding?' she said with haughty emphasis. 'A peer of the realm assaulted a poor serving girl on a lonely stretch of lawn in Sydney Gardens yesterday despite her piteous screams for help and was about to drag her off into the bushes to complete his wicked designs on her while I witnessed all, and it is a slight misunderstanding? It is something to be hushed up discreetly beyond the confines of this room? I do not believe so. This matter will be cleared up here and now and before the respectable citizens of Bath. Have the courage to perform the duty for which you are employed and expel this man from Bath without further ado.'
There was a smattering of applause from the gathered spectators.
Joshua grinned at Lady Freyja, who was looking magnificent enough to be a queen of the Amazons. He even made a slight kissing gesture with his lips.
Mr. King sighed and turned his attention to Joshua.
'Do you have anything to say on this matter, my lord?' he asked.
'Yes, indeed,' Joshua said. 'The lady has a vivid and lurid imagination.'
She looked at him with haughty contempt. 'I might have predicted,' she said, 'that you would deny it all.'
'Did you see Lady Freyja in Sydney Gardens yesterday, my lord?' the master of ceremonies asked.
'Most certainly I did,' Joshua said. 'She was alone and wearing a dark green walking dress with a feathered hat. And she punched me in the nose.'
There was another gasp from the spectators, followed by a buzzing, followed by the inevitable shushing noises.
Mr. King looked pained.
'For nothing at all, my lord?' he asked. 'You expect us all to believe that she struck you, a stranger to her, for no reason whatsoever?'
'She came rushing upon me when I was holding a serving girl in my arms,' Joshua explained. 'Probably she had heard the girl scream a few moments before. She appeared to have concluded that I was about to-ahem!-have my wicked way with the wench.'
'But you were not, my lord?' the master of ceremonies asked.
In the short pause Joshua allowed to fall before he replied, he could see the suddenly arrested look in Lady Freyja's eyes, the dawning realization that perhaps she had made a ghastly mistake. That she had just made a prize ass of herself, in fact.
'A squirrel had stepped into the girl's path as she crossed a lawn in the park,' Joshua explained. 'It startled her and she stopped abruptly. But instead of bounding away as any sensible squirrel would have done under the circumstances, it attempted to take refuge under her skirts and she screamed. By the time I hurried to the rescue, having witnessed the whole catastrophe, the poor girl was hysterical, though the squirrel had long ago recovered its wits and made off for the nearest tree. I, ah, gathered her into my arms to steady her.'
He had, of course, been about to kiss her too, with her full and enthusiastic compliance, but there was no need to add those incriminating details.
'It was at that moment,' Joshua added, 'that Lady Freyja Bedwyn rushed onto the scene, frightened the poor serving girl into screaming again and taking flight, and punched me in the nose.'
