He yanked his friend’s hands away. “Well, stop it.”
“Are you telling me to stop comforting a lady? What a cold rogue you are.”
Curse Helgate. Oliver clasped one of Louisa’s hands in his. “Ladies don’t touch strangers carelessly.”
“What?” Helgate said affronted. “I am no stranger!”
“You are more a stranger than I am,” Oliver pointed out. “If the lady needs comforting, I shall comfort.”
“Enemies over strangers, I get it.”
“Have you ever comforted anything in your entire life before?” The man might appear friendly and accommodating, but Oliver knew better. Helgate was as cold and brutal as they came.
His friend grinned. “Does comforting myself count? I’ve nursed a few wounds in my life.”
“Settle. Back.”
Helgate suddenly laughed, lifting his hands in surrender. “Very well, very well. But since the lady didn’t protest, I still claim no harm was done.”
“I...” Louisa started before her voice trailed off. She cast a curious, hopeless glance at Oliver, who squeezed her fingers.
“No need to respond to him. No need to respond at all. And you can retrieve your hand from me the moment you don’t require comfort.”
“Uh, thank you, then,” she murmured, and suddenly smiled, such a warm smile that it set his heart to racing. “For the comfort.”
His body went hard as stone. And hot. It seemed as though a fire had lit at the center and now gushed out to every one of his limbs. Heat spread everywhere. He cleared his throat. “It’s a pleasure.”
Oliver cursed at his friend’s low laughter.
He wanted to send the man a warning look but also didn’t want to lock eyes. He didn’t bloody need a reminder of how strange his actions were. How out of place. He knew. But he couldn’t stomach the sight of her hands clasped in Helgate’s.
Which was deuced ridiculous.
God help him.
Chapter Sixteen
Louisa stared atthe big hand that encased both of hers. She’d retracted it earlier from his grasp, determined to keep her composure, but after she started nibbling the tips of her fingers, they had both been caught again, trapped in the warmth of his steady grip.
She ought to pull away.
However, no matter how much she debated the issue with herself in her head, her fingers remained nestled in his.
In truth, the duke’s comfort certainly distracted her from the real matter at hand—retrieving her brother. It was a touch embarrassing with Mr. Helgate’s sharp eyes on them, though God bless the man, he looked everywhere but their hands. Looking at him now, pity rose in her breast—his face was turning bluer with each passing minute.
“We’re here.” Helgate peered through the window, letting go of the curtain as the carriage drew to a halt. “Time to beat some Furys.”
“No,” Oliver said, finally withdrawing his hold on her hands, her fingers twitching at the loss. “No violence. Where is the brother you caught?”
“He should be with my man in another carriage, waiting.”
“Is he conscious?” Oliver asked.
“That we shall have to see,” Helgate said with a cold grin.
Louisa hoped the one they caught sported more bruises than Mr. Helgate! “Let us go.” She caught Oliver’s eye. “You have the ledger?”
He glanced at Helgate.
