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distinguished than the overdressed fop she had clashed with.
    He was as dark as Bella herself, with short hair dressed in a carefully casual style. His eyes were a brilliant blue, wide apart and piercing. His mouth, lips curved in amusement, was - here Bella forced her errant thoughts to change direction.
    ‘Your hand!’ the newcomer said, reaching down to lift it from the head of the mongrel, which she had been stroking soothingly. ‘There’s blood on it. Were you bitten?’   
    ‘Miss Bella! Are you hurt?’ Mary demanded urgently, trying to pull Bella to her feet.
    ‘What? Oh, the blood. No, of course not, I wasn’t near enough. It’s this poor little fellow, that wretched poodle must have bitten his shoulder. Look, there’s a tear and his leg obviously hurts him, see how he’s holding it.’
    ‘You’ve driven my dog away, beating him so viciously. If he’s lost or injured you’ll pay for it!’ The dandy was still hovering on the fringe of the little group.
    Bella was trembling, but she scrambled hastily to her feet, cradling the mongrel in her arms, and turned angrily on the dandy.
    ‘I think it would be more to the point if you paid for your careless folly in letting that undisciplined, vicious brute attack this poor creature who was doing nothing at all to provoke him!’
    ‘That miserable object? Who cares about him? He looks as though no one’s claimed him for months. My dog is exceedingly valuable!’
    ‘It’s precisely because he’s a poor, miserable object and clearly no one has cared about for a very long time that he deserves consideration now, sir! Your pampered brute should be shot! All pampered, ill-tempered fribbles should be shot!’ she added, flashing a contemptuous glance over him, from his red-heeled shoes, skinny legs encased in skin-tight pantaloons, and violet waistcoat beneath a deeper purple coat.
    He spluttered in indignation, but Bella paid no heed. She heard a stifled laugh behind her as she stalked away towards Pulteney Bridge, Jane beside her, and the mongrel nestling contentedly in her arms, licking his wounds and occasionally the face of his rescuer.
    Mary, apprehensive, caught up with her.
    ‘Miss Bella, I thought he’d have apoplexy!’ she gasped. ‘I wonder who on earth he was?’
    ‘A nonentity who tries to make up for nature’s mistakes by causing himself to be a spectacle,’ a deep, musical voice answered. ‘Ma’am, pray let me carry the animal for you. He must be quite heavy despite his deplorable condition.’
    Before Bella could reply the dog was lifted from her arms. It was the man who’d spoken before. After a brief moment of wariness the dog decided to accept this new arrangement and relaxed.
    She looked up at the man beside her. Her head came only to his shoulder, and the thought came to her that it would be a very comforting shoulder to lean against, should she ever be in need of comfort.
    ‘What do you intend to do with him?’ he asked.
    ‘I’d better take him home. Just until his wounds have healed. Perhaps Mrs Dawes knows of someone who wants a dog?’
    ‘I doubt you’ll get rid of him now,’ the stranger prophesied, laughing. ‘Perhaps we ought to introduce ourselves. I’m Richard Yates, at your service.’
    ‘I’m Bella, that is, Isabella Collins. And my cousin, Lady Hodder. I’m most grateful for your assistance, sir. Jane, I wonder if Mrs Dawes likes dogs?’
    * * * *
    Alexander Yates lived with his mother and two younger sisters in a small house on the London Road. When his cousin appeared he came into the hallway as the footmen was opening the door, and tried to hustle him into the small room his father had used as a library.
    ‘Alex, have patience! I must pay my respects to Aunt Emma before we can talk.’
    Alex grinned ruefully. ‘Sorry, Richard, but I’ve been waiting so long to talk to you.’
    ‘Two weeks since I had your letter! Hardly a lifetime. And I understand that the lady of your heart will not be in Bath for