Page 39 of Not a Fine Gentleman

Jackson took hold of her arm and opened the door. They nearly collided with the barrel of a shotgun.

Sal gripped the gun with white fingers. “Let go of milady, and I won’t have to shoot you.”

“You’re making a mistake,” Jackson said.

Sal’s glare deepened. “I won’t stand by and watch a woman be mistreated.”

Margaret didn’t know whether to laugh or weep. This poor sweet woman was the bravest defender she’d ever had.

“I’m not mistreating her,” Jackson said sharply. “I’m merely taking her back to London.”

“To stand trial,” Sal said.

“If there’s enough evidence.”

“Trial in a courtroom filled with men—lords.”

Cautiously, he said, “Yes.”

“They’ll all be mates with ’er husband and will wanna see ’er ’anged, even if ’er wastrel brute of a husband got wot ’e deserved.”

Her words echoed Margaret’s fears exactly.

Jackson closed his eyes for a second and drew a breath as if trying to fortify his patience. “Look, she hasn’t been charged yet. We are still investigating his murder. She may not even go to trial.”

Sal scoffed and opened her mouth again, but Margaret should probably have had enough fun at Jackson’s expense. She smiled at the dear woman. “Sal, my brother hired Mr. Jackson to bring me to safety so the authorities can sort it. I’m confident they will find the real killer and bring him to justice.” She shot a meaningful look at Jackson.

Sal eyed them both. “You ain’t his prisoner?”

“No. I’m traveling with him to be with my family and clear my name.”

Sal skewered Jackson with a glare. “She ain’t yer prisoner?”

“She speaks the truth,” Jackson said.

“Then why’d ye say she was yer prisoner?”

“Because we had a run-in with a couple of thugs out there who wanted to collect on the reward money. I’m trying to keep her safe from men like them who might harm a lady.”

Margaret seemed to keep forgetting how well Jackson spoke, both his accent and his vocabulary, until they interacted with other members of the working class. In comparison, he carried himself as a gentleman, even if he claimed he was not.

Again, Sal looked to Margaret for confirmation. “You’re traveling with him willingly?”

Margaret nodded. “I’m convinced he is truthful about my brother hiring him to protect me. And it would be so like my family to do so.”

Sal lowered her gun. “All right. No ’arm done, then?”

Jackson’s mouth twitched on one side. “No harm done. It isn’t the first time a gun’s been pointed at me.”

“Thank you, Sal,” Margaret said. “It means the world to me that you were willing to help me.”

“We women gotta protect ourselves so men don’t run slipshod over us.”

“Not all men are evil.” Margaret surprised herself with that realization. In fact, Margaret’s brothers were some of the finest people she’d ever known. A pity she hadn’t married someone of their caliber.

Sal cast a doubtful look at Jackson. “Maybe not.”

Jackson paid for their food and wished the woman a good day. On the way out to retrieve their horse, they passed Sal’s brother, who strolled along whistling. He nodded as he passed by, probably ignorant of his sister’s mother bear tendencies.

Smiling, Margaret mounted Ginger. Just when she had started to doubt there were any decent people left in the human race, she met people like Sal, who restored her faith in mankind.