Love Drives In (8 page)

"Oh no, I want to see the next ballet," she said implacably. "That gives us half an hour to go to one of the bars."

His uneasiness grew.

"I don't think you'd like the kind of people you'd meet there," he said.

Dorina gave a laugh which she hoped sounded naïve and foolish.

"But of course I shall. After all, you brought me here. I know that you wouldn't bring me anywhere unsuitable. Why don't we go now?"

She rose determinedly and began to make her way along the row of stalls. At the end she turned, so that she was facing the exit from the railed-off 'respectable' area. Once past that rail, there was no knowing what might happen.

His hand on her arm detained her.

"I think it's best if we leave," he said firmly.

"Kennington! Hey there old fellow!"

He turned in answer to a shout from a man he recognised as an old friend. In fact they had seen each other earlier at the races.

"Harris," he said, trying to sound genial yet edging away as he spoke.

"Spending your winnings, old fellow?" Harris said knowingly. "Don't blame you."

But Harris, a large, moustachioed man, was impervious to hints.

"Very attractive filly of yours. Went like the wind. So now you're celebrating with another little filly, eh? Very nice too."

The Earl's voice became frozen.

"She is a lady – "

"Of course she is. They always are old boy, until you've spent enough."

Appalled the Earl turned to see if Dorina could hear any of this.

But she was not there.

The chance to slip away had been too good to lose. In seconds Dorina was lost in the crowd, seizing the chance to look around her.

At first glance the revelry was simply bright and cheerful. Here was a bar and just along there was another one, piled high with brightly coloured bottles.

All around her were young women dressed almost as well as herself. Their gowns were fashionable and elegantly decorated. They seemed confident and assured, making eyes at the men and laughing with them, seemingly on equal terms. These were women of independence.

But a closer look revealed the tense looks in their eyes. It was imperative to them to attract the attention of men with money to spend. That was how they survived.

What saddened Dorina most was the fact that not all of them were openly vulgar. Some looked as though they might have been ladies, who knew about fine living and elegant manners.

Someone collided with her. Two big hands seized her bare arms to steady her and a tipsy voice said,

"Let me go," she said, trying to pull away.

But the hands held her tightly.

"All in good time. After all,
you
bumped into
me."

"That was an accident," she protested.

"Oh, I don't think so. There's accidents and accidents, and I know the difference. You chose me, and you made a good choice. See this?"

He removed one hand and pointed to a glittering bauble on the front of his shirt.

"Real diamonds," he said. "But of course you knew that."

In fact a quick glance had been enough to tell Dorina that the diamonds were fake. She wondered how many women he had fooled that way. Or was he fooled himself?

"Now, why don't we go and enjoy ourselves?" he sniggered, breathing whisky fumes all over her.

With a huge effort Dorina put her hands on his chest and gave an almighty shove, strong enough to send him backwards. When he tried to lunge towards her again she turned on him, eyes glittering and finger pointing.

"Don't," she hissed.

He backed off at once, alarmed by something he had seen in her eyes. He could not have said exactly what, but he felt mysteriously afraid.

Dorina tried to hurry away from him, but in the tightly packed crowd she could not move far, and she was able to overhear a conversation between two other men who had witnessed the little scene and enjoyed it.

"You can't blame him for trying," one observed. "But he lacks the style to lure a really prime article."

"And she certainly is a prime article," the other one agreed.

"Perhaps she is a lady?"

"Not in this part of the house, old fellow. But you've got to admit, she's more convincing than most."

Trembling with rage, Dorina stood frozen, listening to every word.

"Now just watch her," the first man said. "She'll look around and pick out a man she thinks looks wealthy enough to satisfy her. Then she'll slip her arm through his and say, "would you care to buy me a drink, sir?"

"Oh, will she?" Dorina muttered.

"Look, there's a fellow coming close behind her now," said the man. "He looks as if he could afford the earth, so he'll do for her. There he goes."

At that very moment a hand touched Dorina's arm from behind. Without a second's thought she swung round and delivered a punch of which a boxer would have been proud.

She heard screams and commotion as her victim fell to the ground. Furiously she stood over him, ready to deliver another punch if he dared to get up.

Then she froze.

"Gerald!"

He was lying on the floor, his eyes closed, and she could not tell if he was conscious or not. But before she could drop down beside him, she felt yet another hand seize her. It was heavy, and it landed on her shoulder.

"That's enough," said the policeman. "You know the terms on which we allow you girls in here. No rough stuff. I'm arresting you – "

"But I'm not one of those women," she cried.

"That's what they all say. Come along."

"Gerald!"
she screamed.

But he lay on the floor, his eyes still closed, unable to help her.

Heads turned as the policemen dragged her struggling figure out of the Alhambra. She managed to land a good few kicks on his shins, but not to escape him.

"Now then, now then," he said. "We don't want to add assaulting a police officer to the other charges, do we?"

"What other charges?" she gasped in horror.

"Don't give me that. You know what the charges are. You've probably been this way a dozen times for all you look like butter wouldn't melt in your mouth. When we get to the station I expect we'll find you have quite a record."

By now he had got her outside, where a police van was waiting.

"In you go," he said, pulling open a door with a barred window at the back, and letting down the steps.

Despite her struggles, Dorina found herself shoved into the van. The door was slammed, and the next thing she knew, she was on the move. She flung herself against the door, but it was locked. All she could do was stare frantically through the bars at the retreating street.

"Don't worry, love," said a voice behind her. "You'll get used to it like we all do."

Aghast, Dorina turned and saw what she had not noticed before.

There were five other women in there with her, some of whom, as the woman had said, looked as though they had indeed been through this many times before.

She was a prisoner on her way to a Police Station to be charged with any number of unmentionable crimes.

And there was nobody to help her.

When his head cleared, the Earl found himself sitting on the floor, leaning against a pillar. Gingerly he felt his jaw.

"What happened?" he mumbled.

"You had a lucky escape," said a male voice above him. "She may look like an angel but she's got a punch like a prize fighter."

Things began to come back to the Earl and he groaned. Hands reached out to help him into a chair.

"I remember now," he said. "Poor girl."

"Poor girl," said another male voice. "She knocked you out."

"She did not," he said, stung. "She caught me off guard. I lost my balance and hit my head on the pillar."

"That's not what the charge sheet will say," someone observed, and there was a burst of laughter.

"What do you mean, charge sheet?" the Earl demanded in alarm.

"The law dealt with her. There's always the odd policeman here to make sure that the girls behave themselves, and arrest them when they don't. He saw what happened and took her off."

"Oh no!" the Earl groaned, hiding his face in his hands. "Please tell me you didn't really say that."

"Don't worry, old boy. The police won't make you appear in court. They don't like to do that because it embarrasses a fellow – if he happens to have a wife or something like that. And the officer saw her assault you, so they won't need your testimony. So you can afford to forget about her."

The Earl groaned again.

"Where is she?" he demanded. "Where did they take her?"

"Don't go following her. Let her go. It's best if you never see her again."

"Where will she be?"
he shouted.

"They take them to the Haymarket Police Station, just round the corner," the man said. "But if you'll take my advice, you'll leave her to her fate."

Shocked to the soul by this catastrophe, the Earl forced himself to rise and make his way out of the Alhambra. His head was still swimming from where it had struck the pillar and his jaw was sore.

He felt it gingerly.

'Who would have thought she could do that?' he mused. 'But it was all my own fault. Whatever can I say to her after this?'

All too soon the Police Station came in sight. As soon as he appeared in the doorway, the sergeant at the desk stood up straight and alert, awed by the Earl's elegant evening wear. He was dealing with 'quality'.

Overcoming his embarrassment as best he could, the Earl told a pathetic and not entirely untruthful story about taking a lady friend to the Alhambra, losing track of her, and then falling victim to her wrath.

"She is not – the kind of woman you think," he said. "The fault was mine for taking a well bred lady to such a place."

"I don't know about a well bred lady," the desk sergeant protested. "From what I heard she has a splendid right hook."

The Earl ground his teeth.

"I slipped," he said tensely. "And banged my head. Besides, you can hardly blame the poor girl for being angry with me."

The sergeant became fatherly.

"Now look here, sir, I understand that you feel a sense of responsibility for this young person – "

"This young
lady
," the Earl corrected him with an edge to his voice.

"If you say so, sir."

"I do say so, and since I am the Earl of Kennington, the correct way for you to address me is 'my Lord'."

Normally he was the last person to emphasise his title, but he could see that he was going to need all the status he could summon. Luckily this produced the desired result, at least in part. The sergeant became more respectful, but no less avuncular.

"Yes my Lord," he said. "I'm sure it's very good of you to be so concerned about her, but there's no need to go worrying too much. These girls know how to take care of themselves – "

In despair, the Earl played his highest card.

"The young lady happens to be my fiancée," he said in a freezing voice.

"Really, sir? Then you'll be able to tell me her name."

"Hasn't she already told you?"

"No, my Lord, she's been extremely unhelpful and refused to utter a word."

"Then I'm certainly not going to tell you. But what I will say is this. If you are so misguided as to take this lady to court I shall appear before the magistrate, making it plain that I have no charges to press against her. I shall get the best solicitor I can find to defend her, and then I shall bring an action against the police for false arrest, imprisonment and malicious prosecution."

The sergeant knew when he was beaten.

The Earl sat gloomily watching the door. The waiting was terrible, but he knew that the moment when Dorina appeared would be far worse.

He wondered if she would be tearful or reproachful. If he was very lucky indeed she might even be apologetic for the injury she had inflicted on him.

But he did not count on his luck to extend that far.

As soon as he saw her he knew that he had been right. Nothing prepared him for the avenging fury that appeared and fixed baleful eyes on him. Dorina's hair was dishevelled, her eyes wild, and she regarded the Earl with a fierce hostility that boded ill for him.

"If you'll just sign here, saying that you do not wish to press charges of assault – " said the sergeant.

The Earl signed hurriedly.

"Good. Now you can take your fiancée with you."

At the words 'your fiancée' Dorina's rage nearly boiled over. The Earl hastily grasped her arm and whisked her out of the door before she could make anything worse.