Page 7 of Regency Whispers: Scandalous Matches

She frowned in recognition.

‘Miss...’ He fished around in his brain for the name from the ball the night before. ‘Miss Ashworth.’

‘Mr Stewart.’

‘What are you doing lurking in dark alleys, punching people?’

Miss Ashworth spluttered. ‘I was doing nothing of the sort. I was going about my business, walking down the street, when you decided to follow me.’

‘It’s a dangerous part of London.’

‘Hence why I darted into the alley and punched the man who was following me.’

Tom suppressed a smile at her defiant tone. ‘I am sorry if I scared you. That was never my intention. I was concerned that you may not be aware of the dangers of walking alone in Southwark.’

Her fingers twitched in his and he realised he was still holding her hand. Quickly he released it and Miss Ashworth took a step back.

‘What are you doing here?’

She hesitated. ‘I have an appointment with someone.’

‘In Southwark?’

‘What are you doing here?’ she fired back.

‘I was visiting an old friend.’

He saw her raise an eyebrow, knowing the direction of her thoughts, but didn’t disabuse her of the notion. People didn’t understand the friendship between Western and himself at the best of times. It wasn’t something he was about to try and explain in a dark alley to a woman he barely knew.

‘You have a good punch,’ he said, rubbing his jaw.

‘Thank you.’

‘I can’t just leave you here, alone and unchaperoned, Miss Ashworth,’ he said slowly. There was a flare of defiance in her eyes.

‘I have not asked for your protection Mr Stewart.’

‘Yet I am honour-bound to give it.’

‘Go home, or back to whatever warm bed you’ve hopped out of, and forget you ever saw me.’

‘You know that is not possible. What if you were set upon by a band of thieves, or worse?’

‘I can look after myself.’

Tom rubbed his forehead on either side with his thumb and forefingers. He was developing a headache and Miss Ashworth’s stubborn arguments weren’t helping. He needed to go home to start organising whatever it was six-year-old boys required in life, not stand in an alley in the cold, arguing with a woman he had met only once before.

‘How about I make you a deal?’ he said, trying to keep the frustration from his voice. ‘You allow me to escort you wherever it is you need to go, and ensure you get back home to Lady Mountjoy’s house safely, and in return I will not tell anyone where you have been or what you are doing here.’

Miss Ashworth opened her mouth to argue but before she could speak Tom ploughed on.

‘It is a good deal, Miss Ashworth, and I do not have the time or the inclination to negotiate. The alternative is I bundle you into a carriage, take you back to the Mountjoys and tell them where I found you.’

‘Fine,’ Miss Ashworth said after a couple of seconds. ‘Keep up.’

Reaching down, she picked up a package Tom hadn’t even realised she had dropped then spun on her heel and marched off down the alley, taking a couple of turns until they came out into a dreary courtyard. The buildings huddled around a cobbled square, ramshackle and grimy, the upper levels accessed by a set of rickety wooden stairs that looked as though they would barely hold a man’s weight.

Miss Ashworth, who until this moment had managed to keep up at least a façade of confidence, faltered.