Carola Dunn Read Free Page A

not noticed the girls in the shadowy depths of the booth. He tipped his hat with a grin and a wink. “Sure you can manage without me, Mr Rufus?”
     “Quite sure,” said Mr Rufus dryly. Pulling on leather gloves, he gave Betsy his arm.
     The handcart was quite clean, but Rosabelle was glad it was not she who had to undergo the decidedly undignified ride in it. Betsy giggled, enjoying it almost as much as the donkey ride. Mr Rufus made nothing of the weight as he pushed her along, bumping over the ruts in the ice.
     “You came from the City bank, ma’am?” he asked Rosabelle, walking at his side, as they came to the crossroads.
     “Yes, down the steps at Three Cranes Wharf, but it doesn’t matter where we go up. I haven’t a carriage waiting. My mother needed ours today so we came in a hackney.”
     Rosabelle at once regretted speaking of the carriage. It was quite unnecessary, since she had already mentioned taking a hackney, and he was bound to think she was boasting.
     But his friendly manner did not change as he manoeuvred the cart around the corner into Freezeland Street, saying cheerfully, “Three Cranes Wharf will do very well. It’s straight ahead, and rough as the ice is in these makeshift streets, it is worse where wheels and feet have not tamped it down. Besides, we are more likely to find you a hackney in Queen Street than in some of the lesser byways.”
      We , he said, so he did not mean to abandon them at the edge of the river. Rosabelle wished she had enough money in her purse to give him a big tip.
     Or would it offend him? She had never met anyone quite like him before. Whatever his station in life, he seemed to have more gentlemanly instincts than many who went by the name of gentleman.
     “There are more stalls setting up all the time,” said Mr Rufus as they passed a couple of men struggling to spread canvas over a wooden framework. “Business has been good today. By tomorrow word of the fair will have spread and we shall have the crowds out in force if the freeze holds.”
     “Was it your idea to bring Dibden’s to the Frost Fair?” Rosabelle asked.
     “Yes, though more for the fun of it, as young Jackie said, than because the company is in need of the custom.”
     “And you were put in charge?”
     He laughed. “None of the older men wished to exchange the warmth within doors for the chill outside. Jack and Oswald are volunteers, and there are two or three other young fellows eager to take their turns. I let them off for half an hour now and then to explore the fair.”
     “I thought I might bring another of the girls tomorrow,” Rosabelle said tentatively. “It doesn’t seem fair that only Betsy should see the fun.”
     Mr Rufus turned his head to look at her, with a warm smile in his blue eyes. “I wager your servants are happy to work for you, ma’am.”
     “I hope so, though they are not exactly—”
     “Miss Ros,” Betsy interrupted in a tone of deep foreboding, “how’m I going to get up them stairs?”
     The wharfside loomed before them. Several people were coming down the steps, and nearby one of the cranes was lowering a heavy load in a sling.
     “We’ll get the crane to hoist you,” Mr Rufus proposed straight-faced. “Just remember to hold on tight to the hook.”
     “No!” Betsy squeaked in horror.
     “He is quizzing you again, goose. All the same, I cannot quite see how it is to be done. You surely cannot carry her up alone, sir.”
     “Do you impugn my strength, madam? But you are right,” he admitted with a sigh. “I might manage it but it would be risky. No, I believe I shall have to persuade those fellows at the top to labour a little for their fee. One of those hulking brutes will make nothing of it.”
     Recalling the waterman’s earlier comment, undoubtedly lewd, Rosabelle was doubly glad it was not she who had hurt her ankle. She had rather be lifted in a sling, swaying in mid-air, she thought, than submit to being