Romancing a Wallflower

of wine, a bowl of fruits, and a small platter of cheese and meats before them. Her sister carefully poured glasses of wine, while Lilian took the plates and placed a small portion of the various meats, cheeses and bread on each.
“This is a feast!” Lilian raised her eyes to John’s and took a sip. “This is very pleasant, sir. Thank you for this day.” She looked over at her sister, who was sitting much closer than was proper to Lord Yarstone. That gentleman was reading Lydia a sonnet from her favourite book as they sipped wine and ignored the remainder of the repast.
“Did you hear that?” John asked soon after, setting down his emptied glass.
Lilian stilled, and John stood up, scanning the trees and along the small valley in which they sat.
“I hear something.” She set her wine glass back inside the basket to keep it from spilling and listened. Persistent whimpering and weak barking sounded from behind the cluster of trees, followed by laughter.
“’Ere, I got it on the ’ead!”
“Grab its tail!”
“So? I pulled its whiskers!”
Bragging words and another bark penetrated the thick undergrowth which choked the floor of the copse beyond the trees they sat beneath.
“It sounds like an animal and some children. The animal sounds in distress.”
Before they could discuss it, one boy shot through the trees, his arms holding a paw and hind leg of the poor animal, spinning it about and jeering. The other boys followed, throwing stones at a small apricot-coloured dog.
“Your turn, Ralph.” The boy kicked at a smaller boy. “Do it!”
“I doesn’t want to, George…” the younger boy named Ralph wailed to the larger youth. “Don’t make me.” Both boys wore ragged pants that barely covered their legs. Their shirts and jackets were soiled and tattered. The older boy, George, wore a flat cap, blackened with what appeared to be coal dust.
George shoved the younger boy with his elbow. “Ye missed his head, and ye owe me a penny. Take the stone and ’it ’is head,” demanded the red-headed, pimply-faced youth called George. He seemed unaware he had the full attention of their party. To emphasize his point, he spun the poor animal again, holding two legs in a circle around him. The animal tried to draw its body into a ball but was too weary and merely cried in distress.
An anger such as she had never felt before welled up in Lilian. “Stop. Stop that this minute! Bring the poor animal to me.” She clenched her fists beside her gown, hating that she could not get up and plant the older child a facer.
“What, me dog? What’s ’e to ye?” The red-headed boy turned and at last noticed the party of adults. Dropping the puppy to the ground, still holding a rope to its neck, he folded his arms in front of him. His stance was belligerent, but Lilian noticed he maintained a safe distance from the adults. A third, dark-haired boy pulled up behind his friend, holding a fist-sized stone in his hand that he had obviously planned to pitch at the puppy’s head.
“Release that animal at once!” Fury laced her voice as Lilian fought to control her temper. She detested the mistreatment of animals. She had always mended the wings of birds, taken splinters from paws, fed baby squirrels which found their way from their drey too soon. Her father had allowed her to take care of animals and, in fact, had even encouraged it. Mama, however, was not of the same mind. She did not want animals in her house, but had usually relented in the end, allowing Lilian to nurture the animals back to health.
Harlow rose to his feet and stepped in George’s direction, his face mottled with anger. “I believe the lady asked you to let the animal go.”
Yarstone had stopped reading and he and her sister moved to stand behind Lilian.
“Look, guvnor…this ’ere’s me puppy and oi can do as oi want. ‘Ye no call to tell me what to do.”
Her temper flared beyond limits. Lilian would not remain quiet. She grabbed her reticule and made a great display of dumping the coins in her lap.
“Very well! I will purchase your puppy. How much?” she shouted. It was only a few shillings, a little pin money she kept there against emergency, but she would spend every farthing she had to save the animal.
“Lilian, you surely do not mean to bring that dog home, do you?” Lydia whispered loudly in her sister’s direction.
“I do.” Lilian snapped. She loved her sister, but Lydia did not see the same value in animals that she herself did. That was probably the only subject on which they truly differed. “Mama will no doubt fly up into the boughs, but she will adapt. The poor animal cannot remain with these horrid boys. They will kill it,” still seething, she answered sharply, if quietly.
The red-headed boy jerked the rope hanging from the puppy’s neck and nudged the dog with his dirty boot, evoking a strangled cry from the shaggy apricot-coloured mutt. At least he was no longer swinging him in a circle. The puppy whimpered loudly. Pulling on the rope, George made the animal get up on its legs and dragging it behind him, walked to her blanket. “Stupid dog. C’mere.”
“I have three shillings here. I will give you all of it in exchange for the puppy.” Lilian bit her lip, hoping it would be enough. She had nothing else of value with her. The poor puppy could barely stand. It appeared to be a small poodle and spaniel mix, and its matted apricot-coloured coat and its amber eyes displayed pain and fear. Crusty matter covered the inner edges of those sad eyes.
“Ain’t ne’er seen ’at much money,” muttered the younger boy, Ralph. “You’d pay that ’fer a dog, missus? You must be full o’ juice. That be a deal of brass,” he declared, thoughtfully scratching his head and looking from the puppy to the money. “’Specially since ’e ain’t…”
“Stubble it,