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∞∞∞
“She’s probably dead.”
The hard tone of Chastity’s voice belied the slump in her shoulders and her failure to meet Valentine’s gaze.
“Pardon?”
“Daisy. The woman thinks she’s dead.” She jerked a thumb toward the door. “Let’s go. We are wasting our time.” She twisted on a heel and squeezed her way between patrons and tables before he uttered a single syllable in response.
He hurried after her as a surge of new customers spilled through the doorway and slowed him down. Grappling to shove past two extremely inebriated men who swayed and leaned against the doorway, one muttering some vague threats at him, he finally emerged into the fresh air after giving them both a forceful jab or two of an elbow.
He scanned the empty dirt road and cursed, then spied her a little way ahead. Two of the men from the crowd also moved in her direction and he could not hear what they were saying but they were calling to her.
She ignored them, head down. Was she simply upset because they were no closer to freeing her sister from these rumors or was there more?
When the men picked up their pace, so did he, coming up behind them. There was no chance he was letting them anywhere near her.
“Pretty lady,” one cooed to her back. “Talk to us.”
“The pretty lady wants nothing to do with you,” he said through gritted teeth.
Chastity stilled and turned at the sound of his voice.
“Ooh, she’s very pretty,” said the other man. He moved toward her and grabbed for her arm. Chastity darted back, her eyes wide.
The man’s friend laughed. “And quick too.”
“I suggest you leave,” Valentine ordered the men. “Or there will be trouble.”
Chastity lifted her chin. “I can handle myself.”
He’d witnessed her handle many a situation herself. Become a maid? Certainly. Dress as a mistress? Indeed. Change clothes at every opportunity? Absolutely. But that was entirely different to handling two drunken men who were no doubt enchanted by her appearance.
He could not blame them, however, there were better, less primitive ways to behave around a beautiful woman. He could not claim to be much less affected by her and his actions had certainly had a primeval tone to them. Dropping to his knees in a carriage where they might well have been seen? Yes, to claim to be better than these men might be wrong. That did not mean he would let them get away with it, though.
“The lady can handle herself.” The man in a worn cap flashed a toothy grin. “And we can handle her too.” He reached for her once more and Chastity moved forward so quickly, Valentine hadn’t figured out what happened until the man was crumpled on the floor, clutching his groin.
“Little bitch.” His companion snatched the back of her gown, hauling her backward toward him.
Valentine lunged, grabbed the man by the collar and ripped Chastity from his grip. Using the momentum, he ploughed him back against the brick of the nearest building. The whites of the man’s eyes bulged in the meagre light of the nearby window when Valentine pressed lightly on his windpipe.
“I suggest you apologize to the lady and go back to your drinking,” he pressed between his teeth.
The man tore at his hand while his friend rolled around on the floor in the periphery of Valentine’s vision, groaning. Finally, he nodded, and Valentine hauled him away from the wall and shoved him back, making him stumble over his friend’s prone body.
Taking Chastity’s arm, he led her swiftly away with the briefest glance at the two men to ensure they did not follow. Both remained stumbling to regain their footing.
“Where did you learn to do that?” Valentine asked when they emerged onto the main street, the lit streetlamps and presence of a few respectably dressed patrons a welcome relief from the dirt streets around the tavern.
“A woman must protect herself,” she muttered.
“I do not disagree with that, but it is hardly something that is taught to young ladies at finishing school.”
Her gaze shimmered with unshed tears when she glanced at him, making him pause. Had the encounter scared her more than he thought? She ducked her head and continued down the quiet street.
“Chastity, stop,” he commanded, stepping in front of her. He had little experience with crying women, but it could never be a good thing. He had to fix it. Somehow. “Chastity,” he warned, when she tried to step around him. “What the devil is going on?”
Her gaze lifted to his, her lips pulled into a grim line. “That young woman is dead at the hands of a man.”
