Before Victoria could respond, there was a loud crash, sounding as if someone had thrown a stack of metal plates against the wall of the empty shop on the other side of the close, which was followed by what could only be a female voice crying out the word “Help.”
“Cassandra?” Victoria pleaded.“Had the voice been that of her sister?”“Cassandra?” Victoria plunged forward into the surrounding darkness in an attempt to reach the shadow and the sound of her sister’s voice. “Where had that bit of dawn gone?”
“Victoria!” a gravelly voice called out, and this time she was confident it was her sister. Without considering the consequences, Victoria stumbled forward, as one shadowy figure jerked another back towards a now open door in the empty shop. She lifted her skirt to give chase.
Running steps could be heard, but Victoria’s attention was on the two shadows disappearing into the gaping darkness of the formerjewelry shop. She slid in the slime covering the bricked opening and nearly lost her footing.
What sounded of a bullet being fired whizzed past her head seconds before someone lifted her from harm’s way. Carrying her towards the street and setting her down solidly beside the first of the shop walls, a tall, solid body pinned her against the frame of the building.
Though she could not see over her rescuer’s shoulder, she could hear shouts of alarm among those out on London’s streets—those just beginning their day.
Strong thighs and a muscular chest held her against the side of the shop. “You may release me, my lord,” she said as she pushed against his shoulders.
Instead of setting her free, he glared down at her. “Do you have the least sense God gave all his creatures?” he accused.
She attempted to push him away a second time, but to no avail. “You thought me quite bright with my suggestion of a monogram,” she declared in her own defense.
“He meant to shoot you! Did you not see his gun?” he demanded. “I could… could not…” He broke off what he wished to say, but she understood immediately, for she, too, felt something was happening between them, though it had not yet found its footing.
Victoria sucked in a steadying breath. “You are still supposed to be abed,” she stated the obvious. Ironically, Lord Thompson still pinned her against the wall, but not so aggressively as he did previously.
As she had become accustomed to his nature to analyze and hash out all the facts, he continued to speak to her of what had transpired. “Did you recognize the figure?”
“Figures,” she corrected.
“I only saw one shadow,” he stated with a frown she could not see, but she recognized the tension in his body, which spoke of the uncertainty found in his voice. His lordship was definitely frowning.
“But I distinctly heard two voices,” she assured. “One a male and one I believed to be Cassandra.”
The noise on the street had returned to what passed for normal in London. With another sigh of resignation, he looked off to view what he thought he saw before he peeled himself off her. Victoria knew instant regret: She liked the warmth and protection his body held.
“Are you harmed?” he asked.
“No.”
Despite her assurances, he ran his hands down her arms.
“Are you harmed?” she inquired in return. The man was customarily too serious.
He ignored her question. “Must I worry every time you depart Mr. Sustar’s shop for home?”
Whether she liked it or not, his armor was back in place, and it made her sad in many ways, though his use of “home” had executed an odd sensation streaming in her chest and into her private parts. “How did you know to seek me out this morning?” she asked while ignoring his question. She started around him, but he remained where he once held her, not completely releasing her from his protective embrace.
“Brunswick noted a man’s shadow in the close the last two mornings,” he admitted. “Such is the reason for my presence today.”
“A man?” she demanded, “but I would swear I heard Cassandra’s voice. Definitely a female voice.”
