Page 27 of Persuasions of an Earl's Daughter

“Why are you so determined to put yourself in danger? Why act so rashly to get Icarus back?”

“He could be harmed,” she said, sniffing.

August thrust a hand in his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief and gave it to her. She dabbed her eyes, and he shook his head when she offered it back. She stroked the beautifully stitched monogram declaring the article to belong to the one and only Lord Blackthorpe.

He felt a fraud.

“The horse thieves will look after Icarus,” August assured her. “They have to if they want to make money from him.”

“But he won’t understand what’s happening. He’s already lost the person he loves most and now he’s with people who do not care for him.” Her chin trembled and August could take it no longer. The woman acted so rashly out of love for his uncle’s horse. Out of the pure kindness of her heart.

He took a step forward and she folded into his embrace.

Chapter Ten

There was something about being held by August that addled her wits.

She wasn’t stupid. Usually. And she was afraid to admit, she’d never understood why clever women could have their heads turned at the sight of a well-tied cravat or a beautifully fitted jacket. She still didn’t understand, she supposed. Clothing didn’t do much for her and she never really cared what a person wore so long as all the essential bits were covered.

For her, it seemed her weakness was his arms, or more specifically, his arms wrapped about her. They were strong, leaving her aware of flexing muscle that cradled her just so—the perfect mix of gentle comfort and virile protection.

Honestly, she couldn’t believe she was even uttering the word virile to herself.

The way his hand cradled her head perfectly and how firm his chest was beneath her palm allowed her to take a long exhale and gather herself, as though he offered the stability she needed to make sensible decisions. The man still smelled wonderful—like wood smoke and spice. She likely stank of the river. The realization wasn’t enough for her to think about withdrawing, though. Just a few moments more and she would be entirely gathered and no longer thinking through a fog of frustration.

Another silly decision, she admitted to herself. The man made her dense indeed, and she would not have cried nor stormed out had her ego not been bruised. Had she not told him she was not that sort of woman? What did she expect of him? For him to beg and plead for the attention of a muddy mess who had just denied him? It might not have been the most respectful of rejections, however, she could hardly be resentful he’d acted a gentleman and not taken advantage of her brief weakness.

Truth be told, despite her utterance and the shock at feeling his arousal pressed into her, she might well have been persuaded to remain. Everything about August Beresford was too tempting.

More proof of her addled state arrived in the form of Aunt Sarah hustling over while Lilly was still in August’s embrace.

“There you are!” her aunt declared.

When he tore away, she had to put a hand to the rough wall of the cottage to steady herself. She blinked several times, feeling as though she had only just stepped into the daylight from a dark room as she spotted the barouche driven by an older man with flushed cheeks and her aunt clambering swiftly from it.

Aunt Sarah grasped Lilly’s arms and flattened her against her chest.

“Good afternoon, Aunt,” Lilly said, her voice muffled by the tight embrace.

“Thank goodness you are well.” Aunt Sarah released her and stepped back. “You are quite the mess. What happened?”

“I escaped.”

Her aunt grinned. “But of course you did.” She gestured to the barouche. “I persuaded a gentleman to give up his carriage and driver to come and find you though I am glad you were not taken to far.” She leaned in. “The driver is none too happy about the whole situation.”

“You can take her back to the inn,” August suggested.

“I still want to go after Icarus.” Lilly peered around her aunt at the sound of August’s oddly flat tone. “I know where he was taken,” she explained.

Aunt Sarah pursed her lips. “And where is that?”

“Grantham.”

“Ah. They have a new racecourse nearby. No doubt there will be people looking for horses of good breeding. But we will not manage to get there inthatcarriage and I’m awaiting the fixing of the carriage wheel at the Red Lion.” Aunt Sarah tapped a gloved finger to her still pursed lips, looked to August then back to Lilly. “I should only slow you down anyway.”

“She’s in no fit state to go anywhere, Mrs. Knighton,” August protested.

Lilly attempted to pierce him with a stare. The benefit of having Aunt Sarah as an escort was she never minded partaking in adventures or bending rules. In fact, the woman had been instrumental in forming the investigative society with Lilly’s cousins and their late mother. Determined to aid women in need, her cousins and finally her sisters had joined the society when finding there was often a need for lady investigators most especially when men did not take women’s troubles seriously. Lilly didn’t know all the details of her aunt’s time as an investigator, but she was certain her aunt had more than bent many a rule in her time.

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