Once Upon a Maiden Lane (Maiden Lane #12.5)(19)

“Thank you,” she said quietly, fingering one of the rose hips on the arbor. “I’d like that. But you haven’t answered about what books you were looking for at Adams and Sons.”

“I had two quarries,” he said. “One, a book of poetry for my mother, and t—”

A rose hip immediately to the right of Mary’s face exploded.

For a second Henry’s mind went blank.

And then came the bang!

He lunged at Mary, grasping her around the waist and bearing her to the ground beneath him. He rolled as they fell, just enough that he hit the ground with his shoulder, protecting her from the impact.

She squeaked and tried to push him away.

“Hold still,” he growled at her.

She froze, her eyes widening.

They lay face-to-face, his nose only inches from hers, one of his legs between her own. Had this been any other circumstance, the position would have given him ideas. As it was—

“What was that sound?” she asked.

“Gunshot.”

He could feel her breath on his cheek and the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. He lifted his head enough to glance behind them at Angrove House and saw no one. He scanned the surrounding buildings. What sort of imbecile played with guns in the middle of London?

The door to Angrove House banged open.

The earl rushed out, followed by the butler and two footmen. Angrove glanced wildly around and then saw them at the bottom of the garden. “My God, was that a gunshot I heard?”

Whoever the shooter was, he seemed to have realized his stupendous error. There’d been no more shots.

“It was a gunshot,” Henry shouted back. “But we are unhurt.”

The earl was already trotting toward them with his manservants trailing behind. “God’s blood! What fool is shooting so close to the houses?”

The least the man could do is ask about his daughter, Henry thought irritably as he gingerly levered himself off Mary.

He looked at the woman below him. Her brown eyes were wide, and she had a leaf in her hair, but otherwise she appeared composed. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she replied at once. “Though my panniers may never recover.”

His lips curled at that, though he was still angered by how close she’d come to being shot in her own father’s garden. “Perhaps I can buy you a new pair of panniers.”

“I’ve been told that a lady must never accept garments—let alone undergarments—from a gentleman.” Her eyes were lowered, but her stern little mouth twitched.

A bolt of awareness shot through him. She was flirting with him.

He pulled her to her feet and plucked the leaf from her hair, whispering in her ear, “From any other gentleman, certainly. But I think you may accept gifts from your future husband—even intimate ones.”

Before she could make a reply her father was upon them. “This is unconscionable! I’ve sent a footman to alert the watch so that we may arrest this miscreant.”

Henry privately thought that it was extremely unlikely the watch would find whoever had been shooting. Surely once they realized that their shot had gone into a private garden they would’ve taken to their heels.

The earl finally turned to his daughter and said politely, “I hope you are well?”

“I’m quite all right, my lord,” Mary said. “Thank you for inquiring.”

Her father glanced at her sharply as if suspecting sarcasm, but decided not to address the matter. “Well, let’s adjourn to the house in any case.” Angrove glanced uneasily at his neighbors’ rooftops. “I’m sure luncheon is about to be served.”

Henry felt a spurt of rage that the shooter had cut short his tête-à-tête with Mary, but he replied calmly, “A good idea.” He held out his arm to Mary. “My lady?”

He led her after the earl, but as they made the granite steps to the back door, Henry couldn’t help another look about. He frowned. The walls of the garden were at least ten feet high. In order for someone to have shot into the garden, they’d have to be on an upper floor of one of the town houses or a rooftop.

A chill prickled the back of his neck.

In either case it was hard to see how the shot could have been accidental.





Chapter Seven



Triton was appalled.

“That is the worst bargain I have ever heard,” he told Clio. “Obviously I’ll have to go with you.”

So he made a bargain with the Sea Wizard on similar terms—though his was not exactly the same.

That night Clio and Triton swam to the shore and hobbled out of the waves on their land legs. Neither could speak, but that did not stop Triton from rolling his eyes at Clio.…

—From The Curious Mermaid



Mary could still feel Lord Blackwell’s hard, heavy body on hers as she followed the earl inside. He’d moved so fast when the rosebush had burst apart beside her. She hadn’t even realized what was happening until she was already on the ground, his weight pressing down on her.

Covering her.

Protecting her.

It had felt…exciting.

She contemplated that, trying to figure out why exactly having Lord Blackwell use his body to protect her should awaken such a thrill in her. Perhaps it was because she’d spent her life looking after herself. Oh, the orphanage had provided a home—a place to learn and food and a bed—but there were many, many children there. No matter how kind Lady Caire and her brother, Mr. Makepeace, had been, they’d had to divide their time—their attention—among dozens of children. Like the other children at the home, Mary had become independent at a very young age.