Page 20 of No Match for Love (Regency Love Stories)

Lucas followed the sound of shouting to the edge of the building beside Mr. Sperry’s office.

Worry for both whatever he might find and for the woman he’d left behind coursed through him with the energy borne from a natural reaction to danger.

He might have left the individuals to their squabble if it were not for the fact that one of the voices seemed to be that of a woman. He could never leave a woman in danger.

He made it to the alley between buildings and was several steps down it before his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light.

Two figures appeared from the shadows. A man was attempting to wrest something from a much smaller woman. She kicked at his shins, but it did not deter him. He elbowed her in the side. She screamed.

“Hey!” Lucas shouted. His vision turned red. For a moment, the woman seemed to disappear, and it was his sister in her place.

He charged forward.

The woman caught sight of him. “Me bag! He’s tryna get me bag!”

Lucas grabbed one of the man’s arms, holding it back—his fingers digging into the scratchy fabric of the assailant’s shirt.

The man jerked against him but was a head shorter than Lucas and not nearly as broad.

Abandoning his attempts to wrest the bag from the woman, he turned his attention to Lucas.

The woman fell back to the ground, holding the bag to her chest, eyes wide.

Her assailant threw a punch at Lucas, who easily ducked. He’d picked the wrong moment to try to steal from the lady—Lucas was no pencil-pushing gentleman. And his blood was running hot at the audacity of this man to attack a helpless woman.

Deftly, he pinned the man’s arm to his back, but the attacker managed to elbow Lucas in the gut.

He grunted, loosening his hold but not letting go entirely.

The man twisted around, throwing another sloppy punch that forced Lucas to release his arm.

He was stronger than he’d first appeared.

Lucas parried the punch, leaning to the side then returning with a blow of his own to the man’s jaw.

The man staggered back but recovered quickly, raising meaty fists to come at Lucas again.

“You don’t want to do this,” Lucas said, a dangerous edge to his voice.

The man only growled in response, starting forward.

Lucas’s eyes darted around the alley, noting the woman—who had pushed back against a wall out of the way—and anything he might use to his advantage or that might be a hindrance.

A pile of crates. A few loose stones. Discarded rubbish.

The man’s arm lifted, but Lucas beat him to the punch—quite literally.

He threw a hook straight into his stomach, then a second to his head in quick succession.

The rules of proper boxing were out the window here, and his goal was only the safety of the woman and Miss Faraday.

Safety he hadn’t been able to give Marietta.

The man dodged his second hit and returned a surprisingly swift jab at Lucas’s side.

Lucas sidestepped, the hit just grazing him, and the man flew beneath his arm with the force of his blow.

Lucas spun to face him, and as the man came forward again, seemingly about to grab Lucas around the middle, Lucas grasped his head in his arms, bringing his knee up. Hard.

The assailant hit the ground, head banging against the road before he stilled.

Blood pumping in his ears, Lucas bent over him.

The blow and fall had rendered the man unconscious and given him a bloody nose and likely a nasty headache for the next week, but nothing more. Lucas turned back to the woman.

“Are you all right?” he asked, chest rising in a heaving breath.

She nodded shakily, still clutching her bag. Thin, brown hair fell into her face, but she didn’t push it back. “Me wages for the month... everything I ’ave is in this bag. Me kids woulda—” She took a ragged breath. “Thank you.”

He offered her a hand, but when she went to take it, she cried out in pain.

A small figure elbowed past him, dropping down behind the woman.

“It is her wrist.” Of course Miss Faraday would not have stayed in the carriage—the woman never seemed to do as expected.

She looked the woman in the eyes, voice soft.

“Do you mind if I look at your arm? I think you may have injured it in the struggle.”

Lucas stepped out of the way. He rolled his shoulder back as he looked at the attacker. Why was it always his shoulder that got the brunt of things? The man groaned, eyes still closed. Lucas looked around. What were the odds he’d be able to get a Runner before the man awoke?

He glanced back at the women, realizing in that same moment that he’d torn his coat sleeve. “Dash it all,” he muttered.

Miss Faraday glanced up at him, her eyes serious. “Are you hurt?” she asked.

“No.”

Her gaze landed on his shoulder, and she quirked a brow but focused back on gingerly touching the woman’s wrist.

“I though’. . . though’ I’d be all right, ye see. Though’ I could walk home withou’ Johnny. I deal with a far worse sort down at the docks. Ouch—tha’s it right there.”

Miss Faraday nodded. “Is that where you work?” She looked around, decided something, and took off her bonnet, pulling off the ribbon decorating the brim then wrapping it tightly around the woman’s hand and wrist.

“No. Tha’s where Johnny works. Me son, ye see.”

The need to get a lawman tugged at Lucas sharply enough that he interrupted the women. “I need to get a Bow Street Runner.”

The man behind him groaned again, but a quick look showed him still lying without movement. Lucas likely had a few minutes yet. Hopefully it was enough.

“That should do it.” Miss Faraday patted the woman’s arm then helped her to her feet. “Mrs....”

“Brander,” the woman supplied.

“Mrs. Brander, are you far from home?” Miss Faraday asked.

“Na, only a street a’ two.”

“You are well returning on your own?” Lucas asked. “I could assist you.”

Mrs. Brander shook her head, shoulders back. “I’ll be well ’nough. Thank ye.”

Lucas nodded, watching her walk off before returning his gaze to Miss Faraday. She was already watching him, something inquisitive in her eye.

“I must find a Runner. You will come with me, and then I will return you home.”

“Oh? Is that the plan now?”

He nodded decisively. It was not safe, and he wouldn’t leave her to find her own way home. Not at this time, not after the altercation they’d just witnessed. A protective surge had him wanting to put an arm around her to physically shield her from the world and its terrors.

“Very well. I admit traveling in the hackney was not particularly enjoyable. And I would like to look at your shoulder.”

“My shoulder is perfectly well,” Lucas protested as they came out of the alleyway.

The Bow Street watchhouse near Covent Garden was close enough that they could have a Runner dispatched within a quarter of an hour.

He grasped Miss Faraday’s arm and pulled her to him, putting his arm around her shoulders.

Dash propriety; he was not allowing this woman from his sight.

She stumbled a bit over her feet, and he realized how quickly he was walking. He shortened his stride. A bit.

“Your shoulder is not perfectly well.”

He wrenched open his carriage door. “It—very well, it twinges a bit. Nothing worth worrying over.” Without thinking, he placed his hand on the small of her back, looking around to ensure no other threats were about.

Awareness spread from that one spot up his arm and through his body.

Shaking his hand out, he directed the coachman to make for the watchhouse before he followed Miss Faraday inside the darkened interior of the carriage.

“Does it hurt when you raise it forward?”

“What?” Oh, his shoulder. “No. It only twinges.” He lifted the curtain to look out the window, his knee bouncing with repressed energy.

“Does it twinge more or less when you lift it to the side than to the front?”

He demonstrated the action, only paying attention halfway. Until she switched to the seat beside him and grasped his shoulder between her hands. Her fingers prodded the front of his shoulder, where it connected with his chest. He winced.

“Yes, I thought that might be the spot. You ought to refrain from using it for a day or two. Have your valet warm a brick for you at night. Wrap it in a towel, and keep it on your shoulder for a quarter of an hour. It should feel better within the week.”

He dropped the curtain to the window back into place and looked over at her. Miss Faraday’s hands froze on his arm and slowly pulled back. She met his eyes with a hesitant look. “I apologize. I should not have overstepped.”

“Charlie mentioned you had an interest in medicine. I can see you are quite adept.”

“As much as an unofficially trained woman can be, I suppose.” She shifted back a bit but kept her eyes on him.

“Where did you learn?” His voice was quiet, but he did not exactly know why. It just seemed the thing to do.

“One of the tenants was a midwife, and occasionally I spoke with the town’s apothecary. I picked things up here and there. Books and the like.” She shrugged.

He watched her until her eyes met his. “That is very impressive. I will give my valet your instructions.”

“Good.” She paused, her chin lifting as she considered him. “You were quite adept at fighting off that man.” It was a statement, but a hint of question seemed to lace the words.

The carriage came to a stop. Lucas pulled himself from her magnetic gaze and pushed the door open.

Once outside, he turned back. “Please,” he said, “stay in the carriage. It is growing late, and I will only be a few moments.” The lingering fear for her safety remained, and reminders of his sister’s death sat heavily on his conscience.

She nodded once, and without thought, he knew he could trust that small action.

“Thank you,” he breathed, and then he left to engage a Runner.