Page 12 of The Viscount's Seduction
Chapter 4
His pulse buzzed. It might be her. On the other hand, he might be following yet another blonde head through the streets of London. Since leaving Hackwell’s home last night, he’d noticed every wench, every streetwalker, every shop girl.
He kept pace with this one. A gentleman did not call out to women on the street, and this one walked with the poise of a lady, though her dress was a plain frock in one of those shades of brown that reminded him of horse dung. She moved quickly, the toes of her dark boots poking out with each stride. Her bonnet brim concealed much, at least from this angle. Blast it, afoot he could come abreast of her.
Abreast. Yes.
He spotted a boy sweeping, hailed him, and gave him a coin to hold his mount. He plucked a turnip from a stall and flipped the shop man another coin.
She was fast for a woman, but he caught up. “Miss,” he said, “I believe you dropped this.”
She increased her pace. “Miss. Miss.” He was alongside her now. He touched her elbow, and she froze.
Astonishment lit her face, kindling a burn in him.
“Itisyou.” He swallowed the schoolboy smile that threatened and said regally, “Here is your turnip.”
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Took a deep breath. “Good morning, Lord Bakeley. You may have that turnip. ’Tis not mine. And now I must be on my way.”
She took off walking again.
He kept pace. “You are out and about alone early, Lady Sirena.” Too early, and too alone. It wasn’t safe, not for a girl as lovely as her.
Her lips firmed. “I’m on an errand for my lady.” She stopped abruptly and glared, the basket held tightly in front of her. Or perhaps she was preparing to bash him with it.
He reached for the potential weapon, depositing the turnip. “Allow me to carry your burdens and escort you home.”
She colored deeply. “At this hour of the morning? You must not. Where is your carriage? Your horse?” She scanned the street behind them and her eyes narrowed, her lips turning down in a frown. “There. That fine gray trying to bite the unfortunate boy. You must return to him for he is thinking about bolting. And we must not be seen like this.”
“Yes, well. My sister and I will be calling on you later today. With the musicale invitation.”
“Your sister is all genuine kindness. You, however, are confirming my conviction that we shouldn’t attend.”
“You must.”
“We have no carriage.”
“We will send ours.”
She sighed. “Lady Jane may go. I shall have a megrim.”
He so wanted to chuck her under the chin. “You do not have megrims.”
“How would you know?”
“I know women, Lady Sirena. You are not the megrim sort.”
Good heavens. He was bantering like Charley.
It felt rather good.
“Now give me that basket.”
Astonishingly, she complied. He patted the cloth as they started walking. Something plump and warm nestled there.
“’Tis bread,” she said. “Do not be squeezing it so.”
“Youfetch it?”
