Page 6

“Not necessarily. He may have ducked into an alleyway. Wait here, and keep an eye on me. If you stay at the corner of the street, Roland will soon find you.”

Caroline hovered uncertainly beneath the flickering glow of the streetlight.

“You’re not to go into the shadows, promise me!

And if you spot some injured veteran begging in an alleyway, you’re not to go near him—not all of them are as genuine as they seem.

If I lose sight of you, I’ll scream, assuming you’ve been set upon by bandits. ”

Belinda tilted her head. Caroline was starting to sound like Belinda herself a few months ago when she’d still been so ill. She’d been afraid of her own shadow then, and had seen little hope in anything. That was what the loss of a child did to one. Look how far she’d come since then!

She patted her friend on the shoulder. “Don’t fret, and don’t scream. I won’t be a moment.”

Smiling to herself, she hurried down the street, looking into dark doorways, peering into basement areas, and peeping over walls. She’d just approached the opening to the first alleyway where the boy might have gone to ground when she was seized roughly from behind.

Her captor spun her round, and she looked up once more into the hated, handsome face of Piers Darvill.

“Take your hands off me, or I’ll scream. Or my friend at the end of the road will do the screaming for me.”

He held her firmly by the elbows, scanning her face, while a smile tugged at the corner of his perfectly chiseled mouth.

“Your friend has been instructed not to do so. She’s returning to your carriage as we speak, to join the rest of your party.

That’s where you’re going, too. Allow me to escort you. ”

“I have no intention of going back! I have some business to attend to which has nothing to do with you, sir.”

The smile broadened, but there was no longer any humor in it. “I know what you’re about and it makes no difference. You’re leaving with me and must think no further of pursuing the hapless child. Look.”

He produced a gold pocket watch on its chain and dangled it in front of her face. This was tucked away, and then, like some well-dressed street magician, he produced a sovereign purse. As if to prove to her that it was real, he bounced it up and down so the coins inside jingled.

Belinda just stared at him. She had no idea what to make of this behavior. She was convinced of what she’d seen, yet he was equally certain that she was mistaken. And since he appeared to still have his valuables, it looked as if she must be.

What was she supposed to do now? Apologize? Demand an apology from him for handling her roughly? Before she could find the words to do either, he’d tucked her hand over his forearm and was guiding her back to the main street.

“Whom do I have the honor of addressing?” What? How could he sound so normal under such extraordinary circumstances?

Evidently—thank heaven—he hadn’t recognized her as the kitchen maid from the Lyon’s Den. So—was there any harm in telling him who she was?

“I’m Miss Bellamy. My companion, who you seem more than happy to order about, is Miss Brent.”

“I presume you were escorted to the theater by your family or friends. Please assure me you had at least one gentleman with you. It’s not safe for young ladies to racket about the streets of London by themselves.”

Oh, but he was so pompous! Belinda tossed her head. “We are not unaccompanied. My chaperone awaits us in the carriage. He didn’t realize I had a brief errand to run.”

Darvill halted, just shy of the lamp illuminating the corner of the street.

He still held her hand against his side, but at least they weren’t walking anymore.

It had been decidedly unnerving, feeling the movement of his hip as he strode along the pavement, and she could tell from the touch of his arm that he was as strong as sprung steel.

It was a long time since she’d been this close to a man.

Sensing his appraisal, she turned her face away, hoping that the fold of her hood would conceal her from his inquiring gaze.

“Miss Bellamy. That name rings a bell. There was a Miss Bellamy who became Lady Lamb and who is now, I believe, the Countess of Aylsham. Therefore, you must be the mysterious younger sister, and thus a relation by marriage of the Right Honorable Roland Chetwynd. Everything is clear to me now.”

“Is it, indeed? You seem so very sure of yourself. Anyway, I’d rather be thought mysterious than a notorious rake like you, sir!”

Darvill tipped his head back and laughed. Insulted by his amusement, Belinda tugged at her hand—but he was not yet ready to free her.

“You haven’t come to my notice before. Which surprises me.”

Arrogant devil. She wanted to stamp her foot at him, but she’d sworn to give up the habit. Only incorrigible children did that sort of thing—and she was a child no more.

She tried to keep her voice even as she replied, “I have not been out in Society a great deal. I’ve had other, more pressing things requiring my attention.” By which she meant her work with the foundling children, but there was no need to give him any more information than she had to.

“Things such as chasing imagined pickpockets down dark alleyways near the theater? If that is how you like to spend your time, Miss Bellamy, I would advise you to rethink your choices. I shall have to take your chaperone to task and tell him to take better care of you.”

“I can assure you, there’s no need.”

If only he would let her go! The old Belinda would have caused a scene, raising her voice, drumming her heels, and—under the direst circumstances—tearing at her hair.

It would probably have had the desired result and brought Roland running, and probably some other doughty fellows as well.

But she was a lady now, a Person with a Mission, and she was not going to let herself down.

Nor would she brook any interference, certainly not from the handsome rogue at her side.

He’d put her plans at risk once—he wouldn’t get the chance to do so again.

“I have nothing to say to you, sir. If you’d be so kind as to release me, I can make my way to my carriage.

It would be improper for you to accompany me any farther, and Mr. Chetwynd might feel inclined to take issue with you.

” And his gaudily attired female companion would be waiting to take issue with Darvill as well, and serve him right!

He laughed again. It was a curiously warming sound, and she wished it didn’t make him seem quite so human.

“That would be a case of the pot calling the kettle black, I believe. Why, only the other night he... but no. I mustn’t sully your ears with tales of Chetwynd’s misdemeanors.”

If he was talking about when they’d been thrown out of the Lyon’s Den, Mr. Darvill wasn’t nearly as clever as he believed himself to be.

He hadn’t recognized her. To him, she was a member of the ton, not a kitchen wench, and most certainly not the young female Roland had smuggled into the gambling den. She allowed herself a secret smile.

“That’s better.” His tone had softened, and she realized she’d forgotten to hide behind her hood. Any moment now, he’d put two and two together and her guilty secret would be exposed.

He lowered his head until she felt his opera hat touch her ear, and she was certain she’d been found out. The need to run was powerful, but her body was held in suspended animation. He whispered, ‘Before I let you go, there’s one matter on which I must be clear. I have my reputation to maintain.”

Then he kissed her.