Horatiaa"good girla"had wrapped an arm around her waist so they were locked into a huddled unit.

Then her bonnet was knocked forward over her right eye, so she couldnat see from that side at all. She didnat dare raise her hand to straighten it for fear of losing one of the children. The crush was so tight, shead never get her arm down again.

All the younger girls were wailing now, and she wanted to wail herself. But she was the protector here. aItas all right,a she said meaninglessly. aHold tight. It will be all right.a When someone crushed into them from behind, she didnat hesitate to jab back with her elbow.

There was an aOoof!a; then a strong arm came around them and a voice said, aHold back, hold back, make way, make way there.a He didnat shouta"in the tumult there would be no pointa"but somehow his commanding tone seemed to cut through and create a momentas pause so they could slide sideways.

The crowd sealed tight behind them, but his voice opened the way until they landed entangled against the wall.

There was no indent here, however, no doorway to press back into. No barrier except a simple iron lamppost. Had they fallen out of the pot into the fire? They could be crushed. Terrified screams said that might be happening elsewhere in the maddened crowd.

But the man grasped the lamppost and made himself a barrier that the crowd must flow around, creating a tiny pocket of sanity.

Clarissa held her crying charges closer, trembling. aItas all right, dears,a she said again. aDonat be afraid. This kind man is making sure we donat get hurt.a It was, of course, the wicked rake, to whom shead been so cold. Horatia had better instincts. He was a true hero. He had rescued them and was now their protector.

Chapter Three.

Clarissa could see only the manas back, for he was facing the throng. She could see the faces of the passing crowd, howevera"young, old, angry, fearful, excited, greedy, impatient. She watched them see him, see him as a barrier to the direction they wanted to take, then shift away as if he wore spikes.

She wondered what expression he was using to warn them off, but she could only be grateful. Now that she had a measure of safety her knees felt like limp lettuce. If not for the girls she might have sagged to the ground and given in to tears herself.

But shead done it! Shead been terrified, the memories had tried to overwhelm her, but she hadnat collapsed. Instead, shead surely helped save them all. Though still shaking and close to tears, she felt as if great weights had fallen away, leaving her light enough to fly.

She could face fear and survive.

A woman was suddenly pushed beside them. A desperate young countrywoman in coarse, disheveled clothes with a screaming baby in her arms. She did collapse, her legs giving way so that she sank down, back against the wall. Even Ricarda stopped wailing to stare at her.

Clarissa couldnat help thinking about fleas, but the mother needed help as much as she and the girls did. As the woman lowered her dirty shift and put the frantic baby to her big breast, Clarissa looked away, looked again at their savior and guardian.

She didnat generally allow herself to study men, but since his back was to her, she could indulge.

He was talla"her head barely came up to his shoulders. His olive coat lay smooth across broad shoulders and down his back, suggesting a lean, strong body. He stood with strong legs braced apart.

She ripped her gaze away. Studying a man like that was not only immodest, it was dangerous. Looks said nothing about a manas true qualities, but they could weaken a womanas mind.

Yet she couldnat resist sneaking another look. Head lost his hat in the riot, revealing disordered honey-brown hair.

She remembered earlier assessing him as a London beau. Shead sensed that danger, but never imagined him the stuff of which effective heroes are made. Another lesson about judging by appearances.

She suddenly realized that the nature of the crowd had shifted like a change in the air, danger fading, shock lingering. Pressure eased as people began to mill around, many pale and dazed while others sharpened to bring order and assistance. Through wails, and the cries of parents trying to locate their children, she heard the beat of a drum, doubtless calling the soldiers to riot control.

She quickly counted, even though she knew they were all safe. One, two, three, four, five. She found a smile for Horatia, whose bonnet was down her back, revealing all her lovely curls, but who clearly was not thinking of that at all. aThank you. You were magnificent.a The girl smiled back, proud but a bit wobbly.

Horatia, too, had probably learned in a test of fire that she was braver than shead thought.

aQuite an adventure, girls,a Clarissa said in as light a tone as she could manage. aLet go of me now and help one another to straighten bonnets and bodices.a They did so, and with Horatiaas encouragement, even began to giggle a bit as they repaired one anotheras appearance. Clarissa made sure her own gown was straight, wondering what had happened to her cloak. She took off her crooked bonnet, using it to fan herself for a moment before putting it back on.

The man turned.

She was caught hatless and staring, because there was nothing grim and indomitable about him. Instead, he was all rake again, with a wicked glint in those blue eyes and a slight smile on his well-shaped lips.

And a wavery, warm feeling skimmed over her.

None of that! No amount of willpower, however, could halt her blush, so she turned away as she settled her bonnet back firmly on her head.

No amount of willpower could stop her from wishing she looked her inadequate best. She tried to at least tuck her hair away neatly, knowing it was a forlorn gesture. It was unruly by nature, and it had just been given an excellent opportunity to riot.

She firmly tied the ribbons, then looked at him. aI donat know how to thank you, sir. We might have been in terrible trouble without your assistance.a aI was pleased to be able to help.a She was braced to resist flirtation, but he hunkered down in front of the countrywoman. aAre you all right, maaam?a Well, of course.

Men didnat flirt with her.

All the same, a foolish part of her envied the mother, who was blooming under his attention. aOh, yes, sir,a she said in a country accent. aSo kind, sir! I thought for sure I was to be crushed to death, or have poor Joanie here torn from my arms.a But then her eyes widened and she paled as she tried to push herself up one-handed.

He helped her, not seeming conscious of her half-exposed breast or the attached suckling infant.

aMy littlauns!a she gasped, her hand going up to push straggling brown hair off her face. aTheyare out there somewhere. I must goa"a aNo, no,a he said calmly. aTell me what they look like and Iall find them for you. What of your man?a aHeas back tending the cows for Squire Bewsley, sir. There be three of aem, sir. Three boys, and they do stay together if they can. Four, seven, and ten. All brown hair.a Clarissa wondered how anyone could find three urchins on that description, but the man didnat seem daunted.

aNames?a he asked, as Clarissa looked out at the street, hoping three young brown-haired lads were in sight.

aMatt, Mark, and Lukey,a the woman said, and even produced a smile when she added, aLittle Joanie was going to be John.a The man grinned. aStay here, and Iall return soon to report. Hopefully with your little evangelists in tow.a His grin, Clarissa discovered, could shatter a ladyas common sense. How fortunate that Horatia wasnat looking. Shead be in a swoon.

He turned to leave, but suddenly Clarissa couldnat bear for this strange encounter to end like that. aSir, could I know the name of our rescuer?a He turned back and bowed. aMajor Hawkinville, maaam.a He raised his hand to his hat, then said, aThe deuce. I wonder where it is.a aWherever, I fear it will be sadly flattened.a Then she found herself sharing a smile that left her feeling positively light-headed.

aBetter a hat than people,a he said, those richly blue eyes on hers, making her heart race.

How rash she had been to come to names with a man she knew nothing about. Especially with one who seemed able to spin her out of common sense with a look.

It was done now, however, so she curtsied and gave him her name in return. Suddenly at a loss to describe her status, she added, aOf Miss Malloryas School here.a He turned to the wide-eyed girls. aAs are you all, I suppose. All right?a aYes, sir,a the girls chorused adoringly.

Oh, no. Horatia was gazing at him as if he were a god, and now the man could probably claim to have been introduced. Clarissa realized that shead rashly created a very improper situation, and she winced at what Miss Mallory would think of this whole affair.

aWere you at Waterloo, Major Hawkinville?a Horatia asked breathlessly.

aYes, I was.a aIn the cavalry?a asked Jane.

aNo.a Before anyone else could ask a question, however, he bowed farewell. aBut now, ladies, I must be off to other battles.a And thus he was gone, striding away through the dazed stragglers, looking, to Clarissaas dazzled eyes, like a hero among lesser men. Finding three young strangers in the chaos seemed impossible, but if anyone could do it, Major Hawkinville could.

Definitely a hero, but judging by his swift departure, one who sought no glory in war.

Not cavalry, so infantry. He had shown great steadiness in the face of the crowd. She could imagine him leading his men to assault the walls of an impenetrable fortress, or keeping them steady in the face of a French cavalry charge.

aWasnat he handsome, Clarissa?a Jane sighed. aAnd one of our noble soldiers!a aA warrior angel,a Georgina said. aI shall draw a picture of him as Saint George when we get back.a Clarissa didnat point out that Saint George was not one of the angels. This wasnat the right time for a lesson, and she wasnat a teacher, thank heavens.

aA major,a sighed Horatia. aMentioned in dispatches a dozen times. He must have met the Duke of Wellington.a aDoubtless.a But Clarissa was shocked that her thoughts had been so like those of the younger girls. aCome,a she said crisply. aWe must return to school. If news of this crush has reached them, theyall be worried.a After their fright, the girls made no trouble on the return journey. Clarissa chose a roundabout route that should avoid any problems and determined to put any thought of handsome Major Hawkinville out of her mind.

That was hard to do when the others were determined to chatter about him. There was a great deal of romantic babble, despite their youth. Horatia was silent, probably drifting in a true hero-worshiping ecstasy.

Clarissa supposed that wouldnat hurt. Shead certainly done the same at times.

Florence Babbingtonas handsome brother had rendered half the school breathless when head come to take his sister out to tea. Clarissa remembered writing a poem in his honor, and shead only been twelve at the time.

O noble man, tall, chaste, and bold. So like a gallant knight of old, Turn on me once, lest I expire, Those obsidian orbs full of manly fire.

Her lips twitched at the memory. What nonsense people could create in the throes of romantic fervor.

Then theread been the groom at Brownbuttonas livery.

The stables were behind the school, separated by a high wall. From the attic windows, however, a person could see over the wall, and it was a wicked amusement for the senior girls. A stalwart young groom had been a special treat two years ago. Head generally worked without his jacket, and with his sleeves rolled up, revealing wonderfully strong brown forearms.

One deliciously naughty day Maria Ffoulks had caught him working without his shirt. Shead run to gather as many of the senior girls as she could, and theyad pressed to every available window for about ten minutes until head gone into the stables and emerged covered again.

That hadnat been infatuation, however. It had been more like worship from afar. Worship of the male of the species, and of the mysterious, forbidden feelings he stirred in them all.

That sort of thing was probably why shead been such a ninny as to hope when her parents had finally summoned her for a London season.

A ninny. Shead been in danger of being ninny over Major Hawkinville, too. aCome along, girls,a she said briskly. aCook was making Sally Lunns when we left.a Mention of cakes removed any tendency to dawdle.

Hawk moved swiftly down the Promenade, following the flotsam of the crowd toward the Wellington Inn. The innkeeper deserved to be flogged for causing this mayhem.

He guessed the three boys would have gone along with the crowd, and as long as they kept their feet would have come out of it all right. He passed some people being attended to, but none of the injuries seemed serious. The only boy he saw among them was clearly being attended to by his mother.

A bunch of lads ran by, but they all seemed happy and purposeful, and none particularly fit the description of the evangelists. A wail caught his attention and he turned to look, but then a man scooped up the crying child and carried her away.

There were people scattered around, many of them disheveled or dazed, some on the ground. Since they were all being cared for, he followed the trail again, part of his mind scanning for the boys, part assessing the puzzle that was Clarissa Greystone.

A thief and a murderer?

Not a whore called Pepper, that was for sure, not even by deception.

The image of her face rose up, blushing, freckled, frankly thanking him for his help. No, she wasnat a beauty, but astonishingly, his heart had missed a beat there. One of these quirks that comes after battle, and she had been remarkably gallant.

Damnation, he must not let her under his guard! What was to say she hadnat played the whore, and wasnat playing a part now?

Because no one played a part in battle. In battle, the truth about a person spilled along with the blood and guts, and that riot had been a minor battle.

He paused to question two brown-haired lads hunkered down to play with ants in the road, but they said they lived in a nearby house. A blond urchin wandered by eating a plum, not seeming to be in distress other than the juice all over her hands and dress. Hands on hips, he looked over the untidy groups of people but didnat see any children who seemed likely.

He spotted a young brown-haired boy standing tearfully alone and went over to him. aWhatas your name, lad?a The boy looked up, knuckling his eyes. aSam, sir.a Hawk suppressed a sigh. aWho were you with, Sam?a aMe dad, sir. I lost aim, sir. Heall be cross.a This wasnat one of his targets, but he couldnat leave him here. Hawk held out a hand. aWhy not come along with me? Iam going to check out the Wellington. Perhaps your fatheras having a drink there.a A damp, sticky hand wrapped trustingly around his, and they progressed down the street. Soon he gathered two frightened sisters, and another lad who was older but seemed slow-witted. Then stray children began to attach themselves like burrs collected during a march through rough country, and he eventually found the evangelists.

aYour motheras worried about you,a he told them.

aWe couldnat help it, sir,a the wild-eyed eldest said. aAnd we stuck together.a Hawk ruffled his hair and looked around at his collection, all putting their absolute trust in him.

Clarissa Greystone would probably trust him tooa"if she was as honest as she seemed to be. The encounter had tangled all his threads, but she was still his only lead to the heart of the conspiracy, and he had to pursue her.

Once he dealt with his present duties.

He and his burrs turned a corner and faced the Duke of Wellington Inn. The Great Man would not be amused.

The place was jam-packed, with free-ale patrons spilling out into the street in all directions, many of them already drunk. He spotted the town crier leaning boozily against a horse trough, and guided his squadron there.

He pulled out a notebook and began to take down names.

When he had them all, he ripped out the page and commanded the town crieras attention. aThese children are lost. You are to go around town announcing their names, and that they are to be found here.a He used his military voice, and the rotund man stood straight. aYes, sir.a aGood. Start with the Lord Wellington.a In moments, the manas mighty bellow was breaking through the din. Hawk turned to the children. aStay here. Your parents will find you.a He put the oldest boy in charge of making sure the little ones didnat wander, then took Matt, Mark, and Lukey back to their mother.

He was not surprised to find that the heiress and her charges had left. That was no problem. He now had an excellent excuse to call on the school.

Chapter Four.

Clarissa settled the girls at their tea under the eye of the cook, then carried a tea tray upstairs. She hoped Althea was recovered enough to talk.

As she put down the tray on the small spindle-legged table by the window, she thought of how much she would miss this room. Shead once itched to be out of school and in the world. Now it and the walled garden were her comfort and safety.

But then she realized that the wall was the one around Brownbuttonas livery stable. From this low level, however, she couldnat see into the yard. Muscular men could be wandering around there stark naked and she wouldnat know.

Safer so.

Safe. But she was going to be forced to leave.

Someone knocked at the door, and Clarissa opened it. aCome in, Thea. I was just going to invite you for tea.a But then she realized that there was something different about her friend. aYouave put off your mourning.a Althea was in a pretty gown of cream sprigged with pale blue flowers, and she looked lovely. Even more lovely. Suave Major Hawkinville would probably trip over his feet if he set eyes on Althea looking like this.

Clarissa didnat like to examine why that depressed her.

It was over. They would never meet again.

aItas been a year,a Althea said, smoothing the soft fabric. aGareth would not have wanted me to wear dull colors forever. Hea he liked this dress.a She pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it to her eyes, then blew her nose. aIt will get easier.a aYes, Iam sure,a said Clarissa helplessly. aCome and have some tea.a Althea sat and Clarissa poured. aToday must be difficult for you.a She offered the cake.

Althea took a piece, her eyes still glossed with tears. aFor you, too.a Oh, lord.

Clarissa had let Althea think they shared a bond of mourning. It had just happened, and then she hadnat known how to set things right. It had been impressed upon her that no one must know the truth about Lord Deverilas death, and that it would be better if she didnat show her relief over it.

Now, suddenly, however, it was intolerable to be lying to Althea, and after all, who could think that she didnat loathe Lord Devil?

aAn anniversary,a she said, abut not a sad one.a Althea stared.

aIam sorry for letting you think otherwise. Ia" I never wanted to marry Lord Deveril. He was my parentsa choice. I have never grieved for him.a aNever?a Althea asked, eyes widening. aNot at all?a aNever.a Clarissa thought for a moment and then admitted a little more. aIn fact, I was glad when he died. More than glad. Over the moon.a Althea just looked at her, and it was clear that her Christian soul was shocked.