“It’s my business now.” He reached toward her and offered his hand. “Frederica, please, come and see your parents and tell them you are well.”
“I shan’t.” She looked down at his hand as if he had offered up a fistful of slimy slugs. “You may be Dorothy’s protective brother, but you are not mine.”
“I can at least be a concerned friend who is trying to protect you,” he hissed angrily.
“A friend? You and I have not spoken in years!”
“That hardly matters. They are worried for you. For your own welfare, you must see them. Come and see them at once.” He tried to take her hand again, but she snatched it back out of his reach.
“You cannot tell me what to do,” she spoke with such fire, he was now the alarmed one.
“Quiet Frederica isn’t a mouse anymore.”
“What of it? What’s wrong with finding a voice?”
“I don’t remember saying there was anything wrong with it.” He shook his head.
He could see this now perplexed her. Her lips opened and closed, but no sound escaped her for a minute.
“I am not going to see them, My Lord. You cannot make me go.” She turned to march away down the corridor.
A panic set in, deep within Allan’s gut, one so strong that his stomach actually curdled.
A young woman running around London alone couldn’t be safe. There were all sorts of characters that could take advantage of a lady alone at night. He had to protect her from it.
He shot down the corridor and darted in front of her, blocking her exit.
“You must see them,” he demanded again.
“Why must I?” She folded her arms across her chest.
“Because they are your parents. They’re responsible for your welfare. I would be beside myself if Dorothy had gone missing for a year without a word. Family is family. For one thing, they can put a roof over your head in London.”
“Who says I don’t have a roof already?”
“And with whose money are you paying for that roof, hmm?” he said in a deep voice, watching as she blushed bright red. It did a rather pleasant thing to her complexion. He didn’t want to think of how pretty she looked as she blushed.
Distractedly, he pushed a hand through his dark brown hair, trying not to look directly into her eyes.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said in a rush. “I am not seeing them, and you can’t make me see them.”
“Please, Frederica.”
She had tried to move around him to get to the door, but he caught her hand in time and pulled her away from it.
“Let go of me!” she demanded.
“Are you going to slap me again?” he asked with a low laugh. “I am protecting you. You cannot walk out of these assembly rooms completely alone?—”
“I can damn well do as I like.” She tried to push against him to force him to release her.
Knowing he couldn’t hold onto her, for that would be disgraceful, he released her. Plainly, she wasn’t prepared for it, for she stumbled away.
“Ah!”
“Frederica!” He jumped forward and caught her in time though it was in an ungainly fashion — his hands caught both sides of her waist, dragging her away from the staircase and the danger she was in. She stumbled against him, the two of them falling flat together, her pretty freckled face much closer to his than he had been prepared for.
Neither of them said anything as they fell still; they both just stared at each other, his hands on her waist and her hands bundled in the middle of his chest.
