Cat's Cradle by Julia Golding Read Free Book Online

intentions, one Irishman went for him. I could see Syd give a resigned shrug as he deflected him easily. That brought another brother on top of him – and another. He was going to have to fight.
    What a welcome home!
    As the plates flew and tables crashed over, I decided a retreat was called for. Edging along the wall, I bumped into the Irish lass: hands over her head, cowering behind the punchbowl. She was soaked in the stuff and looked plain terrified. I reached out and touched her arm. She flinched. A footman bashed into the wall beside us and slid down unconscious. I hunkered down beside her.
    â€˜Hello.’
    She looked up. I found myself confronted by the most amazing violet eyes rimmed with black lashes. Briefly tempted to hate her for her beauty, I mastered myself.
    â€˜I’m Cat. Shall we escape this madhouse?’
    She nodded slowly, as if not convinced that I wasn’t an inmate of Bedlam myself.
    â€˜Come with me.’
    I led her as we made our way on hands and knees under the tables to the door. Once clear of the ruckus I scrambled to my feet, tripping on my hem with a mild curse. ‘We’re making for the orchestra.’
    She nodded then followed me in a quick sprint across the dance floor. The fight had spilled out here, and I could hear girls shrieking as the pandemonium spread. The manager was trying to restore order, but his attempts were futile. The cause of the altercation had been forgotten – now it was just about who shoved whom.
    As expected, I found the members of the orchestra battened down behind the podium, protecting their instruments. They were in high spirits, like an army under bombardment, passing around a flask of brandy while the missiles flew.
    Peter patted the floor beside him. ‘What’s all that about?’ He jerked his head to the fight.
    â€˜It’s my brothers,’ whispered the girl miserably. Her husky voice had a sweet Irish lilt. ‘Their idea of a good night out.’ She gave an involuntary gulp of a giggle, eyes brimming with humiliated tears.
    Crash! One of the mirrors in the ballroom shattered and tinkled to the floor in a musical shower.
    Peter gave her a little bow. ‘But no one can blame you, my dear. Take a pew.’
    She sat down nervously, wiping her eyes.
    â€˜Are you all right?’ I asked.
    She nodded, but I wasn’t convinced.
    â€˜What’s your name?’
    â€˜Bridgit O’Riley.’ She straightened, her pride returning.
    â€˜Pleased to meet you, Bridgit. Are those all your brothers?’
    â€˜Every last one of them.’ She sighed.
    â€˜Why did they bring you if they planned to start a fight?’
    She shrugged hopelessly. ‘It’s never stopped them in the past.’
    Deciding that this was probably not a pleasant subject to pursue, I turned to Peter. ‘Is there a back way out of here?’
    â€˜Of course. May I escort you two ladies home?’
    Bridgit looked torn. She glanced towards where the battle was thickest; a dark head appeared from time to time only to dive right back in again.
    â€˜Where do you live?’ I asked.
    â€˜The sheds on the building site,’ she admittedafter a slight pause.
    Peter gave her a sympathetic look.
    I was not about to take her back there without her brothers to protect her. ‘I think we can do better than that for tonight. I’m sure Mrs Fletcher won’t mind you sharing my room when she understands the situation.’
    â€˜No, no, I can’t.’
    â€˜Will your brothers worry?’
    She shook her head. ‘I doubt they’ll be aware of anything till tomorrow.’
    â€˜Then you can come with me now. Peter, would you mind?’
    â€˜You don’t understand. No one likes us –’ Bridgit began.
    I cut short her protests. ‘I like you. And Mrs Fletcher will like the excuse to mother another girl. Peter?’
    Entrusting his violin into the care of a friend, Peter gallantly offered