“I am entirely capable of making my way home. I’m not about to let a pair of ruffians set me to running like a skittish rabbit.”
His hand caught her elbow. “I won’t chance those bastards coming after you again.”
Reflexively, her hand went to her throat. The light touch against the manhandled flesh brought a wince to her lips.
“I suppose there would be no harm in it,” she said, reluctance coloring her tone. “My boardinghouse is scarcely more than a mile from where we stand. When the air is brisk, I can cover the distance in little more than a quarter hour.”
“We won’t be walking tonight. My driver waits at the Hound and Fox. I’d planned to indulge my craving for port tonight and perhaps separate some sot from his blunt at the billiard table, before I observed the trouble you’d gotten yourself into.”
“I did not get myself into trouble, as you put it,” Sophie protested. “I simply attempted to make my way home, as I do every night. Those gutter-dwellers intended to rob me. A spot of bad luck. Nothing more.”
“Those men had no interest in your purse. They had one quarry in mind—you.”
Chapter Twelve
Stanwyck’s words cut through Sophie. He was on to the truth but she had no reason to trust the man.
“Ridiculous,” she scoffed.
“Those men set upon you with a highly specific purpose. I’d wager their employer is no petty criminal.” He eyed the velvet bag tethered to her wrist. “Anyone with the blunt to maintain a coach of that quality has no need of the meager funds they’d find on your person. What reason might they have to come after you?”
She glanced away, debating how much she could safely reveal. “I believe the bloke desired a consultation.”
“A consultation? Surely you don’t expect me to believe that.” He cupped a hand against her cheek, gentle and protective. “Tell me the truth, Sophie. You’ve kept your chin high, a credit to your strength of will. But you can’t hide the fear in your eyes. Not from me.”
She steeled herself. Stanwyck was so much easier to resist when he was playing the pompous boor. He had no right to expect the full truth from her, given the charade he’d played—and rather badly, at that.
“Of course I felt fear tonight. I still do. I’d be a fool not to be frightened after what happened.”
“You showed great courage, Sophie. You might even have found a way out of the situation. But your next encounter with those bastards may be a different situation. There was nothing random about this attack. You were targeted.”
She took a step in retreat, then another. When she pulled in a breath, the air filled her lungs, soothing her tightly strung nerves, and shoring up her resolve.
“I do appreciate your assistance, but none of this is your concern.”
“I’ve decided that it is.” He reached for her, taking her hand. “I’m not going to hurt you. You bloody well know that. God knows if I’d wanted to, I might’ve indulged a wicked fantasy or two when I had you to myself in that gaudy hotel room.”
Wicked fantasy.Good heavens, the man was infuriating. If only his words did not seem a fresh temptation.
“I would’ve screamed.” She affected a prim tone.
“I don’t think so.” A smile curved his mouth. “You’ve no talent for playing the defenseless damsel. I imagine you would’ve found something or other to cosh me over the head with… As I recall, there was a gold-leafed vase that would’ve done the trick.”
Blast the man. He shouldn’t look at her like that, as if there was something between them other than a game of cat and mouse, the rules of which neither understood.
She folded her arms, tilting her head at an appropriately haughty angle. “So, you admit your restraint had nothing to do with your high principles?”
“How many times must I remind you that I am a scoundrel?”
His hand curved around her elbow, and he led her away from the shadows of the tavern toward his club.
“The coach bore a rather unusual symbol, a crest I’ve seen somewhere before.” Gavin shattered what had been a moment of comfortable silence. “As observant as you seem to be, I’m surprised you did not take note.”
Drat the man and his persistence. Did he think to wear her down into a confession of sorts, to admit that the rotter who’d accosted her had done so at the behest of some mysterious—and evidently, powerful—man?
“I was a bit…preoccupied. In any case, I see nothing mysterious about the presence of a carriage on a public street.” The lie came easily enough, even as her stomach did an anxious twist. She had indeed spotted the emblem. It had seemed little more than a blur as the coach sped away, but that was all it had taken to cement the conclusion that whoever had sent the blighters after her was a person of high standing. Perhaps even a member of the nobility.
His brows lifted so slightly a casual observer would likely have missed the gesture. But its meaning was all too clear to Sophie. He saw right through her.
