Reckless Angel by Jane Feather

girl could be corrected, and if she did not breed a bastard in nine months’ time, mayhap Sir Reginald could be persuaded of her innocence. A tale could be told of a visit to relatives, and if the little harlot could be brought to a dutiful manner, all need not be lost. A spoiled maidenhead could be disguised on the wedding night…as long as there was no bastard. The Osberts would have it that Will had no part in Henrietta’s disappearance, but Sir Gerald and Lady Mary knew better. Henrietta had been set on wedding with the lad these last two years and neither words nor whipping had had the least effect on her resolve. But if they’d been fools enough to elope, that could be easily dealt with. No court in the land would uphold a marriage between two minors against the wishes of the parents. Nay, ’twas only a bastard they need worry about.
    A small boy ran into the lane in front of him and his horse shied, abruptly shattering these reflections. Sir Gerald cursed vilely and lashed the animal’s underbelly with his whip. The horse screamed, reared, and one hoof caught the lad on the arm. The child went down to the cobbles amidst a great sound and fury as passersby surrounded him, yelling abuse at the riderwho was too busy trying to control his now frantic mount to take any notice.
    Laying about him with his heavy whip, Sir Gerald Ashby managed to extricate himself from the tumult and set his horse to the gallop over the uneven cobbles. The wretched animal stumbled but by some miracle managed to keep his footing as they passed through Alder’s Gate.
    â€œHey, you…you!” Sir Gerald bellowed at a woman standing in a doorway, a child in her arms, two others clinging to her skirts. “Where lies the Red Lion in these parts?”
    â€œMy lad’ll show ye, sir,” the woman said, pushing one of the children, a mite no more than four years old. “Sam ’ere’ll show ye, yer honor.”
    The child ventured forth into the lane, then scampered ahead of the horse, turning down a narrow alley, coming to a halt outside the thatched inn. He pointed but said not a word. As Sir Gerald dismounted, the lad mutely held out his hand, his eyes dull in the dirty face. Sir Gerald cursed him, but tossed a farthing to the mired cobbles before striding into the inn, leaving his horse to the attentions of an ostler, who muttered in disgust at the animal’s condition and the bloody weal on its belly.
    Henrietta was in the privy parlor with Will, playing backgammon while they waited for Sir Daniel’s return. They both heard the unmistakable tones bellowing from the hall. The board fell to the floor, the draughtsmen scattered, as Henrietta leaped to her feet. Her face was gray as she turned to face the door, one hand to her mouth. How could he have discovered her? Only one person could have betrayed her, and it was the knowledge of that betrayal as much as fear of her father that brought black spots dancing before her eyes and set her heart to pounding so violently she thought she would swoon.
    The door crashed back against the wall. Sir Gerald Ashby filled the doorway, every corpulent inch of him expressive of a venomous rage that the two within bothknew he would make no attempt to control. “Whore!” The one word blistered in the sun-filled chamber. The door shivered on its hinges as he kicked it shut. “And your whoreson lover! Ye pair of fornicators.”
    â€œNay, ’tis not so,” Will stammered. “There has been no dishonor—”
    â€œDon’t ye lie to me, you young blackguard! I’ll give you a drubbing ye’ll never forget!”
    â€œSir, you cannot fault Will.” Henrietta found her voice, taking an agitated step toward her father.
    â€œYe’ll have your share, make no mistake,” he said viciously. “But I’ll deal with this whoreson first.”
    â€œSir, I’ll not be called so.” Will, white-faced with