Chapter 5

James flung himself off his horse before it came to a complete halt. "Clarissa! Thank God. Where have you been?"

"Sulking around my farm is where," the woman holding the girl's arm retorted when Clarissa remained mute. "Trying her very best to steal me blind."

James' gaze went to the woman, a somewhat disheveled, obviously angry woman with a little girl of her own peering from around her skirts. Bloody hell. It wasn't enough that Clarissa wreaked havoc on one household. Now she'd started in on another.

"I assure you, madam, that I will compensate you fully for whatever trouble my daughter may have caused you. Come here, Clarissa."

Clarissa shot the woman a smug, taunting smile, and then yanked her arm free. But the look she sent James was even more unpleasant. "I told you to call me Izzy."

"And I told you to come here," he snapped. He'd reached the end of his patience with her three days ago, not that it had done any good. If anything, Izzy's — Clarissa's behavior had gone from bad to awful and now, to unbearable. Everyone seemed to have different advices: threaten her with punishment; bribe her with presents; shower her with attention; ignore her when she misbehaves; spank her; lock her in her bedroom; send her to boarding school.

Return her to her mother in the Seven Dials district, one of London's seediest quarters.

That last one he'd refused to consider, for Seven Dials guaranteed only one sort of future for a child: a sordid, lifelong mire of thievery, drunkenness, drug use, and prostitution. No matter the hell Clarissa put him through, he'd never let her anywhere near that place or her mother again.

But the suggestion about the boarding school, that one was beginning to sound like his only remaining choice. Especially now when the girl pointedly ignored his command and instead went over and pet his horse.

Bloody hell!

He thrust both hands through his hair, anything to prevent him from landing a firm swat on his aggravating firstborn's rear end. An impatient "Ahem" drew his attention back to his aggravated neighbor.

"Yes, madam. I haven't forgotten about you. Tell me what Clarissa has done and I'll see that you're compensated for your trouble."

"She stole my well bucket, my lord. Also, a market basket, a blanket — admittedly an old, oft-mended one — and my garden bench. What she could want with that I cannot hazard to guess. Then today — today she stole our dog!" She drew the blond-haired child who was holding the puppy in front of her. "It nearly broke Helen's heart when we discovered him gone."

"A bucket, a blanket, and a bench. I believe one pound should cover the cost. Or perhaps a guinea?" Guineas were not often used in the country, and he'd learned long ago that it carried a certain cachet for someone to posses one.

But the woman seemed little impressed. "You're forgetting the basket. My grandmother wove that basket herself, my lord. Her great-grandmother," she added, indicating the silent child leaning against her legs.