What a Reckless Rogue Needs (The Sinful Scoundrels, #2)(104)
He was only a block away from the Albany when he saw a thief tugging on a woman’s basket. When she screamed, Harry ran as fast as he could and shouted, “Stop, thief!” The ragged man took one look at him and ducked down an alley.
“Are you hurt?” Harry said as he reached the woman. Lord, his heart was hammering in his chest.
“No, but I thank you, kind sir,” she said, picking up the half loaf of bread and dusting it off.
He couldn’t help noticing her shabby glove as she set the bread beneath a cloth in her basket. Yet she spoke in a crisp, educated manner. The hood of her threadbare cloak fell back as she straightened her small frame. The lighted oil lamp nearby revealed thick, red curls by her ears. She had the kind of hair that made a man want to take it down, but that only reminded him of her peril. “You ought not to be on the streets alone at night,” he said. “It’s dangerous for a woman.”
She pulled her hood up and scoffed. “Sir, I assure you, I would not set foot on these mean streets if I had any other choice.”
The woman’s plump lips and bright emerald eyes drew his attention. She was a rare beauty. “If you will allow it, I will escort you for your safety,” he said, smiling. “Surely you will not object to protection.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve done your good deed for the evening, Sir Galahad.” She reached in her basket and brandished a wicked-looking knife. “My trusty blade is protection enough.”
Holy hell. The fine hairs on his neck stiffened and every muscle in his body tightened.
She looked him over and shook her head. “Perhaps I should escort you for your safety.”
He laughed. “That’s rich.”
“Evidently, so are you.”
She’d obviously taken stock of his clothing and deduced he was wealthy. “Come now, I’m a man and far stronger than you. I can defend myself.”
She angled her head. “Have a care, sir. I quickly deduced you have a full purse inside your inner breast pocket. And if I can surmise that this quickly, you can be sure ruffians can, too.”
“You heard the coins jingling while I ran.”
She looked him over. “I wager those boots were made at Hoby’s. They’re worth a fortune. So is all of your clothing. At the very least, you ought to carry one of those canes with a hidden blade. Not everyone is as merciful as I am.”
“You believe I am in danger?” How the devil had this conversation taken such a bizarre turn?
She regarded him with a world of knowledge in her eyes. “Tonight, Sir Galahad, you are far more vulnerable than I am.”
Stunned into silence, he watched her disappear into the wispy fog. Then he reached inside another inner pocket and took out the penknife. A second, longer blade, far more wicked, folded out at the opposite end. He’d kept it hidden because he hadn’t wanted to frighten her. So much for gallantry, he thought wryly. He pulled up the collar of his coat to ward off the chill and continued on his way home, her impertinent green eyes haunting him the entire walk. And damned if they didn’t coax a smile out of him.
The next afternoon
Lucy Longmore found the address of Lady Blenborough, who lived in an elegant house situated near Green Park and not far from White’s Club. At least she would feel relatively safe in this neighborhood. Well, from everyone except her disgusting employer, Mr. Buckley, the dancing master. As much as she despised him, she needed the employment. Lucy was Buckley’s assistant, although she often did all of the teaching while Buckley tried to charm his lady clients. At least she had found a job using her dancing skills. It provided her with some income, though not nearly enough. She’d taken to sweeping floors at a dressmaker’s shop in the evenings, and that was the reason she’d been walking late last night. Of course, she was taking risks, but as she’d told the handsome stranger, she wouldn’t do it if she had another choice.
Last night, however, she’d had trouble sleeping after her encounter with the handsome gentleman. She felt a twinge of guilt for having brandished her knife after he’d helped her, but he was a stranger, and she had to protect herself. There was no one else to look after her grandmama.
If only she could get a letter of character, she knew she could find a better situation at one of the schools for girls or perhaps even a position as a companion to an elderly lady. Unfortunately, even if she could procure the necessary character letter, she feared it would be difficult to persuade someone to allow her blind grandmother to come along with her. But she’d made it this far using her wits, and she refused to give up hope. She always kept her eyes open for any new opportunities, and she had more than a little talent as a dance instructor.
Lucy went round to the servant’s entrance, and the kindly cook gave her a cup of tea and a roll. Lucy ate half the roll and stored the rest in her apron pocket for later. When Buckley peered inside the kitchen, he scowled. “I’ll dock your pay for fraternizing with the servants.”
She had learned the art of making her expression as blank as possible. It was her only defense against her horrid employer. When she followed Buckley to the drawing room, Lucy saw a plump girl who looked to be about twelve. A lady wearing a fine morning gown sat in a chair with a bored expression.
“Lucy, show Prudence the steps,” Buckley said. “Lady Blenborough, do not despair. Soon Lady Prudence will be performing the dance steps with elegance and lightness.”