Page 56 of The Hired Hero
He was on his feet in a trice and began muttering a series of salty oaths as he paced furiously within the narrow confines of their refuge.
Her face turned ashen. “I didn’t realize you would be so angry with me. I am so very sorry. Obviously, you are regretting?—”
“Regret?” His voice dropped considerably, then his hand raked through his hair. “I didn’t mean—damnation, had I known you had no experience with men, I never would have…”
His initial anger had cooled, and the words trailed off as a look of self-loathing flooded his eyes. Now he was simply appalled at the magnitude of his own sins. How could he explain to her? “Good Lord, I am no better than Charles, debauching an innocent,” he mumbled to himself.
Caroline’s head flew up. “No! How could you ever think such a thing? You are nothing like your brother. Why, you are the most…honorable man I have ever met. Of course, I have had it explained to me that there are gentlemen who will try to force themselves on a lady, but it was not like that at all. If there is fault to be laid, it is with me—I am truly sorry if I have led you astray by my actions. I…didn’t mean to kiss you.”
She shook her head in confusion and once again had to let her eyes slide away from his. “Luc—my cousin says that men are wont to do things they will regret later when in their cups. Perhaps it’s the same for women. I vow, I shall never touch a drop of brandy again!”
That drew a short bark of laughter from the earl, despite his jumbled emotions. Why was it his normal world seemed to tilt on a strange axis when he was in proximity to this maddening woman? Why, she had had him off kilter ever since he had first picked her up out of the mud—that thought suddenly brought him back to their present predicament. His brows drew together.
“If you have no husband, then who is after you with such a vengeance?”
She swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”
“Stop playing games with me,” demanded Davenport. “I won’t have it anymore.” He narrowed his eyes. “I think by now that I should have earned more than your damn guineas—I should have earned your trust.”
“I don’t know who is after me,” she explained. But before he could explode with any further angry words, she took his hand and pressed it up against her jacket. “Truly, I don’t. But I know what he wants.”
A slight lump shifted under his fingers, causing his expression to turn into one of puzzlement.
Caroline drew in a ragged breath. “You asked me a while back whether I had made off with the family jewels. Well, what I have here is infinitely more valuable than that. The fate of a number of people—and perhaps our country—rests in the pages I am carrying hidden in this packet.”
Her hands tightened into fists. “I don’t know who is intent on stealing them, but what I can tell you is that he is no friend of England. He has killed already to get possession of these documents.” A pause. “And as we have seen, he won’t hesitate for a moment to do so again.”
She began to fiddle with the frayed cuff of the jacket, her eyes falling away from his. “So perhaps now you understand my reluctance to trust…anyone.”
“Especially a drunken wastrel,” Davenport said tightly.
“It has been some time since I have thought of you as that, milord,” she replied in a near whisper.
His face remained impassive. “How did you come by the papers?”
There was only the slightest hesitation before she answered. “My father is…involved with the government from time to time. These papers came by special courier to our home, but he had just left on a mission to the Continent.”
“Why didn’t the man take them on to London?” asked Davenport, though it took little imagination to figure out what had happened. Her next words, therefore, came as little surprise.
“He died on our doorstep.”
The earl shook his head. He couldn’t suppress a scowl. “And your people allowed you to undertake the task of delivering the papers to London by yourself?”
Her chin came up. “I didn’t give them any choice.”
“That I can well believe,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
“Surely, you wouldn’t expect that I would ask a groom or a footman to risk his life. And our butler is well past his prime, though I would never say so to his face.” Caroline squared her shoulders. “It was my responsibility.”
“Was there no male member of your family to turn to for help? What of that damned—that cousin of yours?”
“There was no one but me.” She struggled to control the slight quiver of her lips as memories of the past number of days flooded over her. “I daresay I have done as well as my male cousin would have,” she added stoutly. “Well, nearly as well. I doubt he would have allowed himself to be nipped in the alleyway.”
“I daresay you have.” Davenport reached out, taking her by the elbow and seating them both on a bale of straw. He cleared his throat, pondering how to proceed, then spoke again.
“Tell me what happened.”
“Very well…”
