Joy for Mourning. Dorothy Clark

      The man snorted. “Another thieving brat of the streets, no doubt. Get back to the carriage, Jefferson. We’re wasting time. I’ve a meeting to attend.” The man started around the horse pulling the carriage that had stopped behind his.

      He was going to leave? Anger surged through Laina. She shot to her feet. “Sir?” The man turned to look at her. She swallowed back the anger and forced a reasonable tone into her voice. “The boy doesn’t wake. He must be seriously hurt. Surely you do not intend to leave him lying here in the street?”