A Scandalous Proposal. Julia Justiss

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ shaving soap and warm male filled her nostrils. She had a sudden, dizzying perception of the leashed power within the body towering over her, and for an instant she felt almost—safe. Like with Andrew.

      Bitter memory flooded her, and her grip on his sleeve slackened. Giving her head a shake, she pushed the surging emotions back and fumbled for some rational comment. “Y-you wished something else? Did the bonnet not suit?”

      “You must allow me to pursue him!” Cheverley pulled away from her hand. “I cannot permit the blackguard to get away with such an insult.”

      “He was only delivering a message—rather crudely, I admit—from his employer. But my trivial affairs cannot concern you. With what can I assist you, my lord?”

      “Should I not rather ask you that?”

      Emily opened her lips to explain, then closed them. She had carried her own burdens for so long, ’twas vastly tempting to pour out her troubles to this seemingly strong, intelligent and interested stranger. But he is a stranger, she reminded herself. He is not Andrew.

      “Is the man’s employer threatening you over some matter of business?”

      Emily hesitated. The Earl of Cheverley could have no real interest in her…except, she thought, as she remembered the blatant admiration on his face earlier, of the same sort Harding had so crudely expressed. She pushed the degrading notion aside. Then again, his lordship might well serve as magistrate for his county. Perhaps she might chance requesting legal advice. She looked up to find him smiling.

      “Come, after so distressing an encounter, you must sit.” Tentatively, he took her arm. With a sigh she let him lead her to the chair.

      “Now, please allow me to help.” There being no other perch in the tiny office, he indicated a cleared space on the desktop. “May I?”

      At his continued solicitude, her scruples collapsed. Nodding acquiescence, she let him seat himself, and briefly recited the facts of her encounter with Mr. Harding.

      “I cannot be sure he really spoke for his employer. It could be that he works this game on his own, to augment his income, and Mr. Harrington would be shocked and disapproving should I inform him of it.”

      “Perhaps.” Lord Cheverley frowned thoughtfully. “He’d probably express outrage in any event. But if this Harrington is indeed in collusion, confronting him might bring down immediate harm of the sort you’ve just suffered. You must not risk that.”

      “I shall have to risk it. I cannot pay, and I certainly don’t wish to—well, I shall have to settle it sometime. Better sooner than later.”

      “Have you no family, preferably broad of muscle and deep of pocket, to take care of this matter?”

      In her rattled state, that simple question shredded the ragged bonds restraining memory. A tide of hurt, betrayal, pain and grief flooded forth. She struggled to stem it, for a moment unable to utter a word. Despite her efforts, one tear escaped. “No one,” she managed to whisper.

      “Dear lady, you mustn’t distress yourself!” Cheverley leaned forward, his forehead puckered in concern. “I shall look into this personally. My solicitor will check out the gentlemen, and I’ll have him round up some off-duty runners to keep an eye on your shop. I doubt that ham-fisted coward would dare make a move if he sees able-bodied men on guard.”

      When she started to protest, he waved her to silence. “No disagreement. We cannot have brigands going about menacing honest citizens. Besides, my mother would insist, for she holds you in the highest regard. As do I.”

      “But you barely know me.”

      “Everything I needed to know, I learned the moment I looked into your eyes.”

      His low voice vibrated with emotion. Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, she turned away. “Don’t misunderstand, I don’t wish to appear ungrateful, but I…” She flushed. “I simply cannot afford to pay your solicitor, much less hire runners. As Mr. Harding well knows.”

      Cheverley made a dismissive gesture. “Don’t trouble yourself. I shall take care of it.”

      “Oh, but you don’t understand!” Humiliation deepening, she forced herself to add, “I’m afraid the profits of shopkeeping are vastly overrated.” She managed a weak smile. “I cannot even predict when I should have sufficient funds to repay you.”

      He smiled back. He had, she noted despite her distress, a singularly engaging smile that dimpled the skin beside the lean mouth and brought that devilish sparkle to his deep blue eyes. “Ridding the streets of such vermin constitutes something of a civic duty. And, as you doubtless know, I’m a wealthy man. Think no more of it.”

      “But I could not be under such an obligation—”

      “Please.” He put one finger to her bleeding lip. “I should consider protecting you a very great honor.”

      She ought to protest further, but his touch seemed to tangle her already tattered thoughts. As she sat speechless, he slowly traced his gloved finger around the circumference of her swollen lip.

      The soft brush of chamois against her stinging skin mesmerized her, sent little ripples of sensation throughout her body. Her startled gaze flew to his.

      His finger stopped its tracery. He drew in a sharp breath and met her eyes with a glance so intense she felt herself drawn almost physically closer. The steady pulse of his warm finger quivered against her lip.

      When at last he removed his hand, the only thing she could think to stutter was, “Y-you have soiled your glove.”

      Cheverley looked at the bloodstain on the fawn surface. He raised his finger and kissed the spot. “I shall treasure it. Don’t worry, Madame, that villain will trouble you no more. You have my word on it.”

      Evan whistled as he walked back down the street, a bounce in his step. He breathed in deeply, his nostrils still filled with the enchanting scent of lavender, his senses still heightened by the heady euphoria of holding that slender arm, touching those delicate lips.

      He’d roust his solicitor from the tea table and ensure the runners were dispatched immediately. The mere thought of that slimy little villain putting his foul hand on Madame Emilie’s perfect face sent a blistering rage through him. He would check back personally to make sure guards were posted this very day.

      But he shouldn’t be too angry at the fellow who had provided him such a perfect opportunity to act the rescuer, he reminded himself as the rage cooled. Surely the divine Madame would look kindly on him for intervening. Be she ever so virtuous, surely she could imagine a way to repay his concern, one that might be immensely gratifying to them both.

      Not that he would so much as hint such a thing. Indeed, doing so would relegate him to the same crass category as the unspeakable Mr. Harding. The Earl of Cheverley normally had only to express interest, and the chosen lady hurried to do his bidding. The impossibly beautiful Madame, however, seemed reluctant to accept even protective assistance from him, despite the real danger in which she stood.

      Vividly he recalled that sizzling glance, her smoldering touch. She was aloof, and yet undeniably responsive.

      Winning her would not be easy, he recognized, his instincts piqued by the challenge. Once she was won, however, СКАЧАТЬ