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“She’s never done…”And then Caroline’s pained gazed flashed up to meetMarc’s.
“What isit,love?”
She shook her head. “Last year Rachel and Commander Greywood’s daughter snuck off to Covent Garden ontheirown.”
“Covent Garden?” Marcechoed.
“All these young girls are enthralled with that Covent Guard or whatever they’recallinghim.”
“The fellow with thedaggers?”
Caroline nodded. “They wanted to catch a glimpse of him, but they went during the day. I can’t imagine she’d be so foolish as to go there in the middle of thenight.”
Well, she’d foolishly gone somewhere in the middle of the night. And the Covent Guard did most of hisguardingat night. It was a place to start. “I’ll scour CoventGarden.”
He pushed off the settee, but Caroline reached for his hand. “I’m comingwithyou.”
Not a chance. Marc had no idea what sort of condition Rachel would be in once he found her,ifhe found her at all. But the likelihood was high that Caroline wouldn’t want to see her daughter in whatever state that was. “Sweetheart, stay here in case she returns on her own. I’ll be back as soon asIcan.”
Chapter13
Over two hours.Marc had been searching blasted Covent Garden for over two hours. He’d been propositioned by more than a dozen lightskirts, none of whom had seen anyone resembling Rachel’s description. He’d nearly had his pocket picked by a dirty street urchin who couldn’t be more than ten years old. And more than a few someones had cast up their accounts all across FloralStreet.
His eyes hurt, his legs were beginning to ache, and his ardor was long past gone. Where the devil was Caroline’s unruly daughter? What if she hadn’t come to Covent Garden? What if she was speeding towards Gretna Green with some idiot? That was more likely, honestly. Some ne’er-do-well Caroline didn’t know anything about and who had warned Rachel to never speak his name to hermother.
Marc had just about convinced himself to start for Scotland and hope to find Rachel and her lover along the way as they scrambled for the border when he spotted a girl in a dark cloak poke her head out from the mews, looking down Drury Lane. A girl that looked very much like Caroline.Rachel Benton. The damnedlittlefool.
Silently, Marc stalked in her direction, a combination of annoyance and relief both coursing through his veins. Damn it all. What kind of imbecile ran off in the dead of night to Covent Garden? When he got his handsonher…
Rachel noticed him a second later, and her eyes widened in surprise. She picked up the edge of her skirts as though she meant to bolt, though where she planned on running to Marc had no goddamned idea. It didn’t matter, however, as she wasn’t nearly as fast ashewas.
Marc snatched her arm in his hand and yanked her to his side. “Just what the devil do you think you’re doing, little girl?” hegrowled.
She gasped and tried to yank her arm free and in the process knocked them both to the ground. And a moment later, a dagger whizzed through the air, imbedding itself into the façade of the building where Marc had just beenstanding.
For the loveofGod!
His gaze flashed up to find a fellow all dressed in black with a domino shielding hisidentity.
“Let her go,” the Covent Guard said, for that was who he had to be. All of London was talking about the fellow these days. And there he was. In the flesh. And he was a goddamnednuisance.
But dagger or no dagger, Marc was not about to unhand Rachel Benton for anything in the world. The guard, whoever the devil he was, had no idea who he was dealing with. On a good night, he wouldn’t want to encounter Marc, and this was far from a good night. The bloody evening had started out as perhaps the most promising of Marc’s life, but it had somehow turnedinto…this.
“You throw one more dagger in my direction, and you won’t live to seedaybreak.”
Rachel had stopped struggling in Marc’s grasp and gazed up at the masked man as though he was her own personal savior. She was a bigger idiot than he’d firstthought.
“Let the girl go,” the Covent Guardrepeated.
Oh, Marc’s night only wanted for this nonsense. He was fairly certain Rachel wasn’t going to flee, not with the expression on her face as she stared in awe at the dagger-thrower. So Marc pushed back to his feet and dusted his now dirty hands on his trousers. “I am taking the girl back to her mother and if you,” he continued, glancing at the ground in an attempt to lull the masked man into a false sense of security, “think you’regoingto—”
Marc turned quickly and lunged for the man, tackling him to the ground before he could let loose one more dagger. Rachel let out a scream into thenight.
The air whooshed from the fellow, but Marc didn’t have an ounce of pity for him. He crashed his fist into the man’s jaw and once more into his eye, paying no heed to Rachel’s pleas for him to stop. He landed quite a few more punches and the domino fell limply from the guard’sfaceand…
Mother of God. Marc knew him. Not well. But he’d seen the fellow at Gentleman Jackson’s enough times, and he’d known his late-father well enough. Honestly, he wasn’t at all the sort of fellow one would think to assume the role of guardian of Covent Guard. He was heir to a plump dukedom for God’s sake. “Hawke?” he breathed out insurprise.
Christian Hawke, Lord Kelling scrambled for his fallen domino and held it up to his face. “Leave the girl alone,” he heaved, trying to catch hisbreath.
