Marcus’s hand brushed hers as he looped the strings of the reticule over her wrist.
Augusta ducked her head, hiding her face. “Falling coping stones, murderous cutthroats—I see that for your sake as well as that of the children, we shall have put our heads together and solve this as soon as possible.”
“Not to speak of my wardrobe,” he added dryly. “Though no doubt Weston will be delighted to—” His words cut off in mid-sentence and his hand came up to smack his forehead. “Good Lord, how stupid of me! Why didn’t I think of it before?”
“What?”
“Waistcoats!”
“Really, sir, I am aware of your sartorial reputation, but I hardly think the matter of your torn waistcoat is of primary importance at the moment.”
“Notmytorn waistcoat. Come, Lady Augusta, I expect sharper thinking from you.”
Augusta’s brow creased. “Y-You mean, the scrap of silk I found at the scene of the crime?”
“Precisely.”
“I still fail to see the connection.”
“You just voiced it a moment ago,” he replied. “As I am a leader of fashion, every tailor to the beau monde would jump through hoops to have my business. I need only to show a bit of material that has caught my fancy and ask if the man has it?—”
“And who else he has made such a garment for,” finished Augusta. A brilliant smile spread over her face. “That’sveryclever, milord. It seems I was correct in thinking you would be of some use.”
Marcus took a firm grip of her elbow. “Aren’t I just,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “Perhaps I might also make myself useful by conveying you home. It’s getting late.”
They began walking back toward the earl’s waiting phaeton Augusta slanted a glance at the scowl darkening his face and slowed her steps. “Are you by chance angry about something, my lord?”
“Angry? Why, quite the contrary, Lady Augusta.” The sarcasm in his voice couldn’t have been thicker had he mixed it with linseed oil.”I am in alt on being deemed useful. Think of all the marvelous things that are considered useful—a dog, a walking stick,
a—”
“Oh dear.” She blinked. “I’ve hurt your feelings.”
“I’ve more real injuries to worry about than a blow to my pride,” he growled, wincing slightly as his boot slipped on a loose stone.
She came to a complete stop. “Forgive me, sir,” she said softly. “With all the talk of ruffians and fabrics, I’d quite forgotten about your wound.”
“Really, it’s naught but a—OUCH! What are you doing?”
Augusta continued to work at the buttons of his waistcoat.”Stop squirming. I am taking a look at your … ribs.” She swallowed hard as her hand parted the fine linen of his shirt and revealed a goodly amount of flesh.
Marcus ceased all movement.
The tips of her fingers started to trace along the thin gash made by the knife.”It does not look overly serious, but you must make sure to put some basilicum powder on it and have it bandaged properly,” she said after a moment, trying hard not to stare at the chiseled muscles of his abdomen. Then, letting the shirt fall closed, she straightened and made a show of adjusting the hem of her glove. “You are very lucky, milord. Another inch and you might have been … k-killed.” And then, all at once, tears began to bead on her lashes.
Marcus reached out and pulled her close. “No need to upset yourself. I assure you, I have no intention of cocking up my toes any time in the near future.” A gentle humor stole into his voice. “At least not until I have finished being useful to you in this matter.”
Augusta, her face buried against the soft wool of his jacket, made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I don’t usually behave in such a silly, missus fashion.”
He gave a chuckle. “I daresay you’ve experienced enough shocks today to throw even Boadicea into a fit of vapors.” Hishand stroked lightly over her shoulder. “You know, you were quite as magnificent as the legendary Warrior Queen herself, attacking that ruffian with the knife.” There was a slight pause. “However, if youeverdo anything that foolhardy again, I shall forget I am not your brother and shake you until your teeth rattle and fall from your gullet to the ground”
“Milord!” Her head jerked up, the tears gone, replaced by a martial light in her hazel eyes. “If you think?—”
“Augusta,” he interrupted.
The rest of the words seemed to catch in her throat.
“Considering all we have been through together, I think it might be appropriate that we call each other by our Christian names from now on. Mine is Marcus, in case you have forgotten.”
