Page 16 of To Ensnare a Duke

I refrain. Adding my violence into the mix won't help. Besides, if things get to be too much, the military will come in and take care of this mess. Hopefully it won't get to that point. They aren't nearly as judicious in who they reprimand. Anyone caught, whether they act as if they're on the side of right or not, will be punished.

Though my gut wants me to stay, to make sure the girls are safe, I know I cannot. The longer I remain here, the more likely I'll get caught in the fray and forced to fight. A ragged growl rumbles in my throat as I push through the people, shoving the men out of my way so I can leave.

As I walk up the side of the street, a flash of silk catches my eyes from across the road. It's an odd frock full of dark colors, as if the wearer is in mourning. She wears a bit of lace in front of her face, obscuring her features. Though I'm not sure why, she calls to me.

It's something in the hesitancy in which she moves. It's as if she doesn't quite belong. But then, why else would she be down here if not to protest?

She shuffles about, moving with a stealth that makes no sense to me. Fascinated, I follow her, pushing through the crowd to get to the other side. Her silhouette calls to me, tickling the back of my skull. Do I know this woman? Transfixed, I watch as she slips into a side nook.

Perhaps it's for the best that I lost her. She's a distraction I don't need at the moment. Just as I turn to leave, she pops back out, a bundle in her arms. She moves toward the fires, her strides purposeful. Does she not know how dangerous this is?

Even now, the men turn her direction, pouring their wrath onto her. Even from my distance, I feel the fear quivering through the air as she turns from them and hurries forward. Snaps and pops erupt from the house, the perilous sounds quieting the outward fray.

All eyes turn toward the wreckage, but mine stay on the woman. She huddles close to the house, her back pressed against the wall. No one seems to care. No one seems to understand the jeopardy she's in. Fiery embers spread from the bawdy house to the one next to it.

The fires rage, nearly out of control. Now, the shouts turn toward terror instead of anger. The protestors and rioters scatter, like bugs under a lit frame. All but the woman next to the new inferno. Tearing down the road, I wrap my arm around her bicep, hauling her into me.

I wrap my arms around her body, covering her as the rotten boards collapse, missing us by mere inches. The strange girl vibrates in my arms as I drag her away. In her shock, she barely moves, forcing me to sweep her up into my arms and walk her far enough away until we're both safe.

Once I set her down, she takes off, her body jolting from me. Snarling, I take after her, easily pinning her against a wall. My cock pulses as her breaths come out in haggard gasps, rubbing her chest against my upper abdomen. It's not a need to possess her flesh that drives me, but a need to reaffirm life, to ensure she is okay.

Gripping the lace, I lift it up, fully expecting a girl from Madame Douleur's or some neighboring house of ill repute. However, the dark blue eyes speckled with light blue that stare up at me are familiar for an altogether different reason. Fear and anger surge through me as I jerk her away from the wall.

"What in god's name are you doing here, Lady Hunt?" I growl out, keeping my voice low enough so others can't hear and compromise her. "And where the devil is your chaperone?"

I don't give two shits what excuse she has to give me. Nothing should have compelled her to come this way, and certainly not without her lady's maid at the very least.

"F- forgive me, Your Grace," she murmurs, casting her gaze to the ground. "My aunt was sick, so my lady's maid and I ventured to the Western Exchange. I don't know how we got separated. And well, I tried to find her."

"Down in Coventry Garden? I doubt that."

"Oh." Her voice takes on a surprised timber. "Is that where I am? I had no clue. I simply followed the crowd, thinking I'd end up somewhere I recognized. If not for you-"

"If not for me then you could have been dead. What possessed you to walk toward the fire, you daft twit?" I hiss, relief and anger colliding into a far more dangerous emotion—erotic, dominating rage.

“I caught sight of a bit of fabric…” she trails off. “I only tried to help.”

Pulling back, I rub the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. "Your brother-"

"Is not here," she interrupts, sliding closer to me. "And he need not know of this lapse in judgment. Yes?"

"Miss," I seethe, putting distance between us. "Do you try to entice me with your body to keep me quiet?"

"I- No!" she cries out, garnering a few looks from passersby. Thankfully, she has enough foresight to pull the lace back down, so no one knows who she is. "I wouldn't… I couldn't… I… I… wouldn't even know where to begin,” she babbles, her voice going higher and higher with each word. “I'm simply imploring you to keep this a secret between us. Please, Your Grace. It would kill me to know he would worry over me so."

Unfortunately, the chit has a point. With everything he has to accomplish, a dim-witted sister would only cause him to stress more and take his valuable time away from those who need it more.

"I hear your pleas. But they do nothing to soften the righteous ire I have against you. What would happen if he came home and found you dead? Did you think of that?" Before she can answer, I hold up my hand, cutting her off. "Obviously you didn't. Since your brother put me in charge of seeing to your safety, I will ensure you never forget it."

Her hand flutters at her chest as she steps back from me. "What do you plan to do?"

"First, I am going to accompany you home. Then I will deal with you in your brother's study."

CHAPTER 9

AUGUSTA

My stomach drops to the pit of my stomach as I follow Portswell. His broad shoulders look square and menacing as he walks beside me, his expression brooking no contest. But then, what am I to say? I was ferreted out. Hoist upon my own petard.