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She ignored the little dropping sensation of her heart. Of course he did not recognize her. Of course he was not going to sweep in and shove her hat from her head and bend her over and kiss her before declaring his unending love for her. The man did not know she existed and she had made her peace with that a long time ago.
Had she not?
She stilled, scowling and stiffened her shoulders when a shiver threatened to wrack her. Eyeing the shadows that were emphasized by the lamps lit in small windows, she shook her head to herself. No Blake, and no one else either. She was being paranoid.
Gulping down a deep breath, she lowered her head and pushed on. Home was only a twenty-minute walk from here and she had done it several nights this week. She had never encountered any trouble and had a knife secreted upon her person should she need it. Chastity had taught her some self-defense so she had no concerns for her safety, even if Aunt Sarah—who could usually be counted upon to push her and her sisters into daring situations—had been worried about the journey. She could hardly order her father’s carriage though, could she?Oh, excuse me, Brother, Father, while I disguise myself as a boy so I can finally do something exciting with my life and help a cause dear to my heart?
She snorted to herself. Anton would have a fit. Her brother was a conservative man who could not believe he had two spinster sisters and two more who had fallen in love in the most unlikely of ways. She’d wager if someone told him about what she’d been doing, he would turn purple and faint.
None of it mattered anyway. No one would know the truth behind her generous donations when she arrived at the hospital dressed like a proper lady and even if she saw Blake again, there was no chance he would think the demure Lady Demeter Fallon would do something so bold as disguise herself and best seasoned men at cards. No chance at all.
***
Really, he should still be in the gaming hell. Figuring out how the devil his cousin had tricked his aunt into giving all her money to him was his priority.
Notfollowing some youth who was a fool to be strolling around these streets alone with a pocketful of winnings. There was something about the boy, though. When he’d met Blake’s gaze, panic flared in his expression. If that wasn’t reason to be suspicious of the stranger, the fact he caused the slightest spark of recognition was. Had he seen him with his cousin perhaps? Maybe he knew something about his cousin’s dealings with the men who ran the club and feared being questioned. Whatever the reason, Blake found himself trailing after the scrawny chap.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one. Two other men followed. Both had been lurking about the club and he’d kept his distance from them, suspecting them to be pickpockets. They had a hungry look in their eyes—and their frames—that suggested they would not mind roughing someone up for money.
No one with eyes could fail to notice the way the boy had bested his opponents repeatedly, and Blake imagined he had scarcely lost a single hand by the pile of winnings he’d shoved into his pockets. How the chap remained standing carrying so much, he did not know. His scrawny legs were highlighted by dark, oddly fitting trousers and a jacket that implied he might have once weighed more or had inherited it from his father. How a boy beat seasoned gamblers, he did not know, but Blake had watched enough cheaters to know he hadn’t won by nefarious means.
He blew out a breath and kept his distance from the two men, moving silently along the street. A few people lingered in doorways or strolled down the center of the empty road so he doubted the men would attack here but once they did the boy would stand no chance. As starved as these men were, they were a good foot or so taller than him and his skinny frame wouldn’t help him one jot. If either of them so much as grabbed him, he pictured him being snapped in half.
So now he was going to have to interfere and protect the boy. For selfish reasons of course. He wanted to speak with him and figure out why he’d acted so oddly when their gazes had met. However, he couldn’t deny the tiny part of him that he thought he’d shoved aside long ago—the part of him that could not help but stand up for those less fortunate than him. He knew all too well what it was like to be bullied and beaten and picked apart. He couldn’t let it happen to this fresh-faced chap, even if he was somehow in league with his cousin.
The boy rounded a corner and both men moved swiftly.
Damn it. He wished his instincts had been wrong. The wretched feeling in his gut never was, though. He always, always trusted his instincts and they never failed him. Like that time Lady Grenville’s husband returned home early. Or how this mess with his cousin made him itch from the inside out.
These men were going to attack the boy and take his money. He had no doubt about it.
Blake moved faster, striding around the corner as the two men snatched the back of the boy’s coat. He let out a decidedly high-pitched squeal which had Blake wondering if the boy was younger than he’d realized.
The boy wriggled against the hold the man had on the back of his jacket and lifted tiny, balled fists. Blake shook his head. If he had any sense, the boy would give up all his money and be grateful to be left untouched.
The other man went to thrust a hand inside one of the jacket pockets and the boy lashed out with a foot. It connected with the inside of the man’s thigh and he released a harsh curse, then lifted a fist.
“Do that again and I’ll beat you senseless,” the injured man said, his words slightly slurred.
“Hurry up,” the other man urged. “Before someone comes.”
“I’ll cut you if you touch me,” the boy hissed as he fumbled inside his jacket.
Blake had to give it to the boy. He had courage.
Leaned against the wall of the nearby draper’s shop, allowing the light from the street lamp to reveal him to the men, Blake gave a twisted smile. “Someonehascome.”
The man holding the boy cursed again and gestured wildly. “This ain’t nothing to do with you. Be gone unless you want a beating too.”
Blake pushed away from the wall and moved closer. “I can’t do that I’m afraid.”
The boy’s eyes widened and then he lowered his gaze. Even in the midst of a mugging, he didn’t want to look Blake in the eye. Why was that? He knew there was something odd about him.
“This ain’t your business,” the taller man said, balling his fists and rounding on Blake.
Blake didn’t give him a chance. He had little desire to waste the rest of the evening. He struck swiftly, hitting the man directly in the nose and feeling the satisfying crunch of bone. The man stumbled back a few steps and clutched his nose. Even in the dim light, Blake saw blood dripping between his fingers.
Before he could take care of the other man, the boy slipped a knife from his inner pocket and swiped wildly back and forth whilst trying to turn to attack the man still holding him. Blake darted out of the way but not before he felt the slight sting of the blade upon his cheek. He snatched the boy’s wrist, squeezed hard and heard the knife clatter to the floor.
