Page 5 of The Trouble With Her Duke
“Good God! I’m afraid I didn’t see you,” a tall, dark-haired man said, emerging from the carriage. “Allow me to help you.” He bent and scooped her up as though she weighed nothing more than a rag doll. Setting her on her feet, he stood close as he continued to hold her around her waist.
She looked up into the most handsome face she had ever seen. For a split second, she thought she recognized him from somewhere but couldn’t recall where.
As he steadied her, she shook herself out. Good Lord, a perfect stranger has his hands about my waist in broad daylight. “I’m perfectly fine,” she said, feeling quite flustered. “If you had only looked out of your window before shoving your door into my face . . .”
“I beg your pardon, but I did not shove my door anywhere. When I peered out, I saw no one in front of my door,” he replied in a rich baritone.
“Horse feathers!” she muttered, remembering the watch. Frantic, she looked about her but didn’t see it.
“Have you lost something? Can I help you find it, Miss . . .?”
“My name is Hammond. Miss Lydia Hammond,” she returned, a little terser than she’d intended, but she was so very close to tears. Glancing around once more, she exclaimed, “I’ve lost it!”
“I don’t understand, Miss Hammond. What have you lost?”
“My grandfather’s watch. He gave it to me as a gift. I had just checked the time and was replacing it in my reticule when I slipped on a patch of ice, and it flew out of my hand.”
He took a step forward, and the sudden sound of shattering and splintering glass reverberated around them.
Lydia gasped, and her eyes flew to his. “Oh, no!”
His eyes widened, and he looked as shocked as she felt.
“Forgive me, Miss Hammond!”
She blinked once, twice, three times. His eyes were so green. The dowager had an emerald necklace the exact shade. For God’s sake, get hold of yourself, Lydia! She shook off her fanciful musings and bent to pick up the watch. Unfortunately, the gentleman bent down at the same moment and their heads banged together, knocking her off balance once again.
His arm swiftly slipped around her waist and pulled her close before she could take another tumble. Her eyes met his once more and for a moment, she forgot to breathe.
He smiled as he released her, but his hands continued to hold her around the waist.
Emerald-green eyes and a dimple in his chin to boot! Snap out of it, you ninny. He’s not the first handsome man you’ve encountered.
“Miss Hammond, please allow me to assist you,” he said in that deliciously deeply timbered voice.
Feeling quite rattled, all she could manage was a quick nod. He released her waist, then bent to retrieve the broken timepiece.
“My grandfather’s watch,” she said, trying to keep her lips from trembling. “It’s ruined.” “I would not have required your hasty assistance if you hadn’t knocked me off my feet in the first place,” she blurted, taking the battered pocket watch from him.
“And that too was accidental, Miss Hammond. Please accept my apologies for stepping on your watch in my haste to render help.”
“Do you never look out the window before you open your carriage door?”
“I believe you reached for my carriage door at the same time as I opened it, which then caused you to fall and your timepiece to fly out of your hand.”
“And I believe that my timepiece could have survived if it wasn’t for your right Hessian boot,” she countered with an arch of her brow.
He paused and expelled a deep breath. “Again, I sincerely apologize, Miss Hammond. I admit I exited my carriage in haste to enter the club,” he muttered, indicating the building behind them.
She glanced over her shoulder, realizing where they were standing, noting the black and gold sign that read The Carlton Gentlemen’s Club. She knew what that club was all about. Her brothers had frequented it before they married. The main floor had the requisite club chairs and tables for men to gather and drink, but there was also a gymnasium in the back where men could practice their pugilistic skills. They even had a book for betting. She’d overheard her brothers discuss ladies of questionable moral standards who frequented the suites on the third floor.
Feeling even more befuddled at the thought of the handsome man inside the club, flexing those broad shoulders and arms as he boxed, she held up the timepiece and examined it. “It’s crushed! I fear it is beyond repair.” Lydia realized the sharpness of her tone too late, and she bit her bottom lip, recalling her earlier distraction. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly and looked up at the gentleman standing before her. “I apologize for my temper. I have no excuse except for the shock of losing this watch. It was my fault. I was in a hurry and checking off the tasks on my list in my head and . . .”
“You keep a list of tasks in your head?” he asked.
“Why yes, doesn’t everyone? I mean, I have other lists. Lists that I write in my book of lists . . .”
“A book of lists!” he interrupted.
