Lily flushed. “I tried to push him away but—”
“He hit her, hit my little sister!” Rose’s voice was throbbing with rage.
“So Rose went for him and then I tried to—”
Cal cut them off with a furious gesture. Political rallies were notorious for erupting in violence. The thought of his little sisters having to fight off some filthy thug filled him with horror. And ice-cold fury. “Why thedevilwere you attending a political rally in the first place! No—don’t bother—I don’t want to know. The point is, you were supposed to be safelyin bed. How often have I warned you howdangerousit is to venture out on your own at night and—”
Rose burst out. “You don’t want us to haveanyfun! What’s wrong with showing an interest—”
“Rose,” the teacher said quietly.
Rose glanced at her. “Sorry, Miss Westwood.” And said not another word. Not so much as a peep.
Cal blinked.
The teacher turned to Cal and said in a pleasant manner that barely disguised the acid beneath, “Shall we continue to stand in the street hurling accusations and counteraccusations, or should the girls be taken in out of the cold and have their injuries tended to?”
“Of course.” Annoyed because she was right, dammit—and because he’d almost lost his temper and heneverlost it—Cal gently pushed the girls inside and stood back to let their teacher enter before him.
She gave him a brisk nod and turned to leave.
Cal frowned. “You’re not coming in?”
“Thank you, but no.”
Cal turned to the butler. “See to the girls, Logan. Wake one of the maids to attend them. A slice of steak will help Miss Rose’s eye. Unguent and some ice for Miss Lily’s bruises—but apply some leeches first if you have any. They’ll stop the worst of the bruising.”
“Ugh! Not leeches!” Lily exclaimed.
Cal ignored her. “A hot bath for each of them, a cup of hot milk with honey and a little brandy, and then bed.” He looked at the girls. “I’ll speak to you two tomorrow.” Loganlooked at him with a question in his eyes, and Cal added,”I will escort Miss Westwind home.”
“Westwood. But there is no need—” she began.
He said tersely. “Shall we stand in the street discussing it, or...?”
She gave him a look he couldn’t read, then shrugged. “If you insist, but there’s really no—”
“I insist.” He offered his arm.
***
To Cal’s surprise he didn’t have to adjust his pace to hers as he did with most ladies. She walked with a long-limbed elegance, an easy graceful stride. Their steps matched perfectly. She was tall for a lady; the top of her head was, under the ugly gray hat she wore, level with his eyes.
“Do you often attend political rallies?” he asked her.
She gave him a sidelong glance. “When they interest me.” She added after a pause, “Why? Are you the kind of man who thinks that it’s unfeminine for women—excuse me,ladies—to show an interest in politics?” It was a challenge.
“Not at all,” Cal said. “I don’t care what you’re interested in. I was just making conversation.”
They walked in silence for the next few minutes.
“I want to thank you for bringing my sisters home.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I was surprised that they thought a political talk worth sneaking out for.”
She glanced briefly at him. “I suspect it was less the subject of the talk as the adventure of being out on their own at night.” Her voice reminded him of a white wine he’d drunk in Alsace once; crisp, dry and a little astringent. But with unexpected depths and a fine, smooth aftertaste.
