Page 5 of Anything But a Duke
“Leave ’er,” a bulky man behind him said. “Don’t need no harpy mucking up this job.”
Rage built in her so quickly, it burned all of Diana’s fear away. Something about the one man’s sneer and the other’s dismissive tone set her blood on fire.
Lifting the shaft of her umbrella, she aimed the pointy end at the thinner man and rushed toward him. A cry welled up from deep inside and she screamed as she closed the distance between them.
He lowered his club and shoved it into his coat. Then he glanced once at his victim and tapped the shoulder of his partner before breaking into a shambling run down the far end of the mews. The larger of the two cast her a menacing glare before following his accomplice.
The beaten man struggled to get to his feet. He was large and far too heavy for her to lift on her own, but she wrapped her hands around his arm to give him some stability as he stood. But instead of rising, he reached for her, wrapping one large, ungloved hand around the edge of her waist.
“Dizzy,” he murmured.
“Then perhaps you should move more slowly.”
“Can’t. You need my help.”
Diana assessed the man. In the moonlight, she could see a stream of blood trailing down his face. The rain had slowed to a slight drizzle, but the air had turned colder and puffs of white escaped his lips.
“I’m saving you,” she told him. “Not the other way around.”
She wasn’t sure whether she imagined the flash of a grin.
“We should get you inside.” She glanced toward the end of the lane where the men had disappeared. “I don’t know if they’ll return. Or if there are others.”
“I don’t think they will, and I’d wager there aren’t others.” His voice was deep and his accent not nearly as clipped as she’d expect from a man of Belgravia. Yet his fashionable clothing and polished shoes seemed those of a man of substance, just the sort who might have a home in the square.
A groan escaped as he pushed off his bent knee and got to his feet. He leaned heavily against her, gripping her hip with one hand and letting her take some of his weight.
When they stood face-to-face, the injured man towered over her. For a long moment, he stilled as if gathering his strength. It allowed her a moment to study him. He was handsome, despite the stony set of his square jaw and the grimace twisting his full lips.
He lifted his head to gaze at her in the dim light, and a strange shudder rippled down her body. As she flexed her fingers against his arm, she realized she was still holding on to him and let go.
The stranger didn’t follow suit. Instead, he drew her an inch closer.
“Can you walk?” she whispered.
“The blow was to my head.” His expression softened and he shot her a crooked grin. “The rest of my body is quite intact.”
Suddenly his body was the only thing she noticed. He was broad shouldered, with a chest to match. Rain had soaked his shirtfront, and the starched white fabric plastered itself to his skin. The scent of sandalwood soap wafted off him.
He was still holding her, his hand an oddly comforting point of heat at her hip.
A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed it down. “I was planning to attend a lecture at Sir Beckett Woodson’s home. It’s just there.”
“Go to your lecture.” He let out a hiss when he turned his head. “I need to find a cab.”
“You don’t reside in the square?” Diana’s curiosity was piqued. If he wasn’t a resident who’d sought the back garden of his home, then what was he doing in the mews in the dark of night?
Perhaps he wasn’t a gentleman at all and had some connection to the rogues who’d set upon him.
“I had business here.” He gestured too vaguely for her to determine which town house he indicated. With two fingers, he touched the side of his head and winced. “It will have to wait for another day.”
“Let’s find you a cab.” When Diana made to move away and start toward the square, he circled a hand around her arm to stop her.
“No. You’ve done quite enough.”
For a moment she thought he was chastising her, but she sensed the intensity of his gaze, even in the darkness. His face was all sharp angles, regal brow, high cheekbones, and a notably full lower lip. But his eyes were what stood out, even in the meager light. Whatever shade they were, they were paler than her own and brightened by the moon glow.
A trickle of blood fell in a line down his cheek. Diana reached inside the tiny pocket stitched near the hem of her bodice and extracted a folded handkerchief. “You’re bleeding quite severely.”
