Bliss’s face flamed as Jamie answered the woman in the politest tones. “Beggin’ your pardon, mum, but me name is James Marcus McKenna and I’m this lady’s ’usband.”

“Is this true?” Mrs. Wilmington demanded of her companion, in a withering voice.

“No,” Bliss lied firmly. “I’ve never seen this dreadful person before in my life.”

At this, Jamie threw back his head and laughed. “Allow me to introduce myself, Duchess,” he said, catching her by the waist and flinging her over one shoulder as though she were a bag of barley. “I’m the bloke that’s goin’ to show you the error of your ways.”

Bliss gave a shriek and kicked, but it did little good, so she began striking Jamie with her valise. That didn’t help, either.

“Young man,” protested Mrs. Wilmington, with what seemed to Bliss a serious lack of conviction. “I’ll call for assistance if I must!”

“You do that, m’lady,” Jamie responded, and a motion of his right shoulder told Bliss that he’d doffed his hat to the woman. “Keep in mind, though, that you’re goin’ to need an army.”

The blood was beginning to rush to Bliss’s head. Again, she slammed her satchel into Jamie’s back. “Damn you,” she spat, “let me down!”

“I’d love to,” Jamie replied smoothly, venturing dangerously close to the side of the ramp. “Trouble is, Duchess, that the water’s some filthy ’ere. God knows what diseases you’d get if I threw you in.”

Frustration made Bliss emit another shriek, and Jamie responded by landing a hard swat on her upended bottom. Neither Mrs. Wilmington nor anyone else came forward to help.

“Help!” Bliss screamed at the top of her lungs, clasping her satchel’s grip in one hand and holding her bonnet on with the other.

Jamie laughed. “Don’t waste your breath, love. None of these louts’ll ’elp you. It’s the neighbor’ood, you know—it’s gone down’ill these past fifty years.”

“I hate you,” Bliss whispered furiously, and at that moment, she meant it.

Again, Jamie’s hand rose to her bottom. Only this time, he gave her an arrogant squeeze instead of another smack. “I feel the same way about you, me precious darlin’,” he responded warmly, and there was no break in his stride.

Bliss was seething. “Put—me—down!”

“If I do,” Jamie replied, “it’ll be to turn you over me knee. Is that what you want, Duchess—with all these people lookin’ on and all?”

“No!” Bliss cried in a strangled voice. Trust Jamie to threaten her with the one thing more humiliating than being carried down a ramp and along a pier over a man’s shoulder!

“I didn’t think so,” he agreed reasonably.

Bliss was seriously considering throwing up when Jamie came to a jarring stop. She heard the creak of a carriage door, and then she was set, none too gently, on the floor of that vehicle, which put her at eye level with a very irate Jamie.

His nose was nearly touching hers. “If you ever do anything like that again, Bliss,” he warned, “I swear by all that’s ’oly that I’ll blister you.”