8. November, 1826

8

NOVEMBER, 1826

BELL'S PHARMACY, OXFORD STREET

N ovember, 1826

Bell's Pharmacy, Oxford Street

When Hamish returned Saida to the front of the pharmacy to explain all the items available for purchase, he nearly had a heart attack when he glanced out the front set of windows, Georgina Throckmorton stood outside, peering into the shop. The expression on her face was unpleasant. Hamish's mind raced.

He'd made her believe he wasn't interested in a relationship with a woman, and here he stood with the exotic Saida Hossini, mistress of an earl. On top of everything else, she oozed sensuality, and he was afraid Georgina would see the attraction sparking between them.

He decided to pretend he hadn't seen his former patient and instead turned to Saida, explaining what was contained each of the elaborate porcelain containers with Latin names lining the shelves. When he looked up again, Georgina was gone. Either he'd imagined she was there…or she'd given up waiting and didn't want to create a scene inside the pharmacy. He realized that was his own feeble hope, but as long as she'd moved on down the street, he had a chance of getting Saida back to Grosvenor Street before his former patient caused a problem.

He relaxed after a few more minutes and tried to answer all of Saida's pointed questions about English medicine.

Once they were back out on Oxford Street, Saida conferred with Young Rutherford who was acting as her tiger and staying with the carriage. She rejoined Hamish and gave him a mischievous smile. "Do you think you could put up with me for a few more minutes? I need a new pair of gloves, and there's a good milliner a few doors down."

Hamish swung his cane easily and walked companionably with her, surprised at how well they fit together in something so mundane as walking and shopping on Oxford Street. He gritted his teeth and banished the inane thoughts flitting through his sex-addled brain. He had a plan, and this woman was no more than the means to that end.

Just as they strolled past a fruit vendor, a small, filthy urchin of a boy sped past them, shoving aside Saida, after stealing a small apple. The vendor gave immediate hot pursuit, and when he caught up to the child, he grabbed him by the collar of his tattered shirt and began to shake him as if he were a small rat.

Saida suddenly shoved her reticule at Hamish and ran to the child's side. It was only then that Hamish noticed the boy had turned blue. Saida tore the child from the vendor's grasp and pulled the urchin into her arms. She held him chest-down on her left arm and poked beneath his chest hard with the fingers of her right hand and then rubbed his back in a circular motion. When the child seemed to remain unconscious, Hamish raced to intervene.

"Wait—," Saida shouted whilst repeating the thrusting of her fingers up into the area beneath the boy's sternum. At last, he jerked back to life and she turned him over quickly, returning him to his feet just before he retched onto Oxford Street, having coughed up the chunk of apple that must have lodged in his windpipe.

When he'd recovered a bit, he took off running again, tossing a rude taunt at the vendor. When the man acted as if he'd follow the boy, Hamish shook his head hard at the man and flipped him a coin to pay for the stolen apple.

When Saida calmly collected her reticule from Hamish and proceeded on toward the milliner's shop, he touched her arm to stop her forward motion. "Where did you learn how to do that? Who taught you?"

"The old Jewish surgeon in Ceuta who taught us midwifery."

He must have stood for some moments, still not believing what he'd just seen.

"What, Dr. Douglas? Do you find it hard to believe a foreigner from what Englishmen consider a backward country knows a little about how to save a life?"

"No," he answered carefully. "I suppose I really had no preconceived notion of the extent of your training. I just assumed…"

She cut off his rambling explanation with an outstretched hand. "Pah—."

When they turned in to the milliner's shop, he was dumbfounded at how huge the shop was inside. There must have been thirty or forty shoppers in the narrow, cavernous space. The floor-to-ceiling shelves displayed gloves and scarves for both men and women, and Hamish idly perused the selection whilst Saida made her choices.

He'd no more than found a pair of gloves he liked than a huge commotion broke out at the front of the store where the cashier was serving a line of women paying for their choices.

When he turned to see what was happening, he spied Georgina racing out the door, and one of the clerks held Saida's arm in a painful-looking grip. Dread sank into his stomach like the greasy slop served at riverfront taverns. He strode back purposefully toward the center of the whirlwind with poor Saida at its center.

Saida held her head high and refused to cry, but she nearly broke when she saw Hamish pushing his way through the crowd, the look of an enraged Scot darkening his face. Someone had stuffed a pair of gloves into her reticule whilst she was perusing several colors of soft leather gloves displayed on the counter. She'd felt only a slight shove from behind when whoever was trying to destroy her slipped the gloves into her reticule. She'd left the top of the silken pouch open while she shopped, which she now realized had been a fatal mistake. But who wanted to destroy her? She could be hauled away to a magistrate, before anyone could help her.

"What is the meaning of this? Why are you detaining Miss Hossini?" Hamish had assumed a rigid, dignified look she hadn't seen before.

"The lady who was just here…" The clerk trailed off and swiveled a glance from side to side. "She must have left already. But she came to me and told me she'd seen this…this woman steal a pair of gloves and stuff them into her bag." He pointed to Saida who was being roughly detained by a second clerk. A crowd had gathered and was pushing forward to see the accused thief.

A shout erupted from the front entrance. "Excuse me, excuse me…" Everyone turned at the loud interruption, and the crowd parted. Young Rutherford was shoving his way rudely through the crush of shoppers and gawkers from the street outside.

Saida gave the young man a wide-eyed look of panic and waved her hands frantically, motioning for him to stay away and not get involved.

When Young Rutherford finally made his way to the counter, he locked gazes with the clerks detaining Saida. He extended a card to the one behind the counter, while at the same time crushing a roll of one-pound notes into the man's hand. "I believe you know me through the owner of the establishment named on the card who is one of your wealthiest, erm, most generous patrons. This woman is under her protection, and I would hate to have to report back to the duchess that her ward has come to harm because of a simple mistake on your part."

"But…" the second clerk interrupted. "The lady who was here earlier said she saw her steal the gloves."

Young Rutherford took a long, studied look around the millinery, peering around the crowd which was gathering at the counter behind them. "Where is this supposed informer now?"

"Well, she…she probably didn't want to be involved…" The clerk stammered and flushed several shades of crimson.

Hamish stepped forward and leaned across the counter. "In that case, perhaps she wasn't so sure of what she saw, either." At the same time, he grasped the head clerk's forearm in an iron grip.

"Then why was a pair of our gloves found in her reticule?" The man behind the counter matched Hamish glare for glare and snatched away his forearm.

"Perhaps they fell from one of your counters. That would be an honest mistake…which might not reflect badly on your behavior in this matter once I have to report this unfortunate incident to Her Grace." Young Rutherford straightened his tall frame and clasped his hands behind his back in his best imitation of a proper Mayfair footman.

At that, the atmosphere in the store seemed to lighten and both clerks began assuring the other customers that nothing untoward had happened and that they would serve the next person in line.

"But what about these gloves I'd like to purchase?" Saida insisted.

"Here, take them, with my compliments." Both clerks quickly wrapped her choices and slipped them into an elegant box, which they handed off to her avenging rescuer footman.

Both Hamish and Young Rutherford flanked Saida and marched her out of the store without stopping until they reached the curricle.

Saida paused a moment before climbing back onto the driving seat. She turned, anger coloring her face, and demanded, "Who was that woman, Dr. Douglas?"

He put his hand over hers and said, "Merely someone I used to know."

Young Rutherford helpfully filled in, "She's Georgina Throckmorton, the wife of one of Prinny's bankers."

Hamish glared at Young Rutherford. "Why don't you climb up onto your back perch and hope she doesn't roll us all to perdition before we get back to Grosvenor Street?"