Pain of The Marquess: (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book)
Page 31
Rick blocked her.
Her pulse rushed.
“Rick will see you home,” Luke said. “Don’t you fear him. He’s a true gentleman. He’s the kindest man I know.”
Nora backed away. She’d known kind men in the past as well, but one could never truly know anyone. “No thank you. I must be on my way.”
Rick tilted his head, and Nora pulled her hood down farther. “Hackney,” he murmured.
He’d see her to a hackney?
Is that what he’d meant?
If so, why was he speaking…
Panic squeezed her throat.
Rick. Garrick. The Viscount of Coalwater. She’d done the one thing tonight that she feared, running into someone she knew.
She couldn’t see him, but her face rose to her vision from memory. He was a man any woman would find impossible to forget. He was mute, but his eyes spoke far easier than any she’d seen before. Their blue was warm and shone like reflecting water. His face was strong with a chiseled jaw that she’d often fantasized her fingers stroking over.
She’d fantasized about stroking his mouth as well. It was full and sat below a broad nose. He was the only man who’d ever left her weakened by a glance.
Already she was feeling hot. This man always managed to wake needs that had long since been dormant. He made her have thoughts unsuitable for society and her evening dreams dirtier than the alley they stood in.
She shook her head wildly. She needed to get away. “No. I can get my own hackney.” Whatever was he doing in an alley at this time of night?
“Let Rick get it for you,” Luke pleaded. “Come on, my lady. Do it for ol’ Saint Luke. I’d fear for your safety if you didn’t.”
Nora sighed. She supposed she could take one to a house close to Lord and Lady Ganden’s and then walk from there. She’d do whatever would get her away fastest. “All right. I’ll allow you to escort me to a hackney, but I will pay for it myself.”
“That’s good with us, isn’t it, Rick?” Luke asked.
∫ ∫ ∫
CHAPTER 02
Garrick Amdon, the Viscount of Coalwater, stared at the woman in the hood and had little doubt to her identity. Lady Honora Baxter. Her voice was more distinct than most. It had a breathiness to it that made her sound as though she were perpetually flushed.
Or perpetually being made love to. It was as though her every word came from the very depths of her being. Her moderate cadence and angelic intonation made it easy for Garrick to find her in a crowd.
And the more she talked tonight, the more he was certain it was her. Yet, another part of him fought against what he knew the be the truth. A portion of his mind wouldn’t allow him to place Nora here, amongst the ruffians and rakes like himself. He couldn’t understand why his nephew’s governess would be on this side of the city and at this late hour. Nothing respectable ever took place here.
Which meant she could be up to nothing respectable, with didn’t fit what he knew about her. Nora was of good character.
How often had Nora come to this side of town? Did Kent, George’s uncle, know? Did Lucy know? He doubted it. Otherwise, Garrick was certain the earl and countess would never leave George with the woman.
Did she come to meet a man? Offer him the use of her body for a few coins? Was the salary the earl provided for her not enough? He couldn’t see that being the case… unless Nora was in debt. Deep debt. Though he doubted the debt was her own. She didn’t gamble. Perhaps Miriam, her daughter, had fallen ill before she came to work for Ganden, and the medical expense was too high. Perhaps, the debt had originally belonged to her husband and his creditors were demanding the heavy sum.
There were few ways one could earn a sizable debt if they didn’t gamble.
Debt.
In the heart of London’s brothel and gambling hell district, it was the only plausible explanation he could come up with at the moment, because he was certain that whatever Nora was up to, she had not come to Covent Garden for her own pleasures.
He thought about his next words, concentrated, and said, “My lady?” He held out his arm to her, and she stiffened. But then her fingers stuck out of her cloak and wrapped around his forearm.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Her gloves were dirty. What had happened to her?
It frustrated him that he couldn’t ask her until he had a pen and paper nearby. It was always when he needed a pen that one could not be found. He had an assistant, Andreas, who followed him during the day, always at the ready to provide him with pen and ink and a journal to write if need be.
He’d hired Andreas over a year ago. At first, Garrick had pretended to not have a problem and allowed people to assume he was ignoring them, but after realizing just how accepted he was amongst his friends, he lost the feeling of shame that such a servant would bring and hired Andreas.
But Andreas had been in possession of greater talent. He knew the manual alphabet. He’d also read George Dalgarno’s The Deaf and Dumb Man’s Tutor.
Dalgarno was a Scotsman and a linguist who’d taught at Oxford over a hundred years ago. His book was published in 1680, specifically for the deaf-mute. It just so happened that Andreas’ father had been deaf and so he’d learned to communicate with him. Currently, Andreas was teaching Garrick’s friends to do the same.
Garrick himself had known manual language since he was a boy but had met very few who understood it.
But when Garrick came to Covent Garden, he told Andreas to stay home. Here, he didn’t need his words to speak for him. Coin was enough.
He guided Nora through the alley and onto the main road. She kept her head down, which was wise.
“Should I call for the hackney?” she asked softly, pointedly. People tended to ask such questions from him, questions where he would only have to reply with a simple yes or no, a nod or the shake of his head.
What woman asked a man if she should call for the hackney? The answer was simple: one who thought the gentleman could not call for it himself.
She was aware of who he was then. At the moment, she didn’t know that he knew who she was, so he decided he would keep it that way. But this chance meeting would not end here. He planned to speak to Kent and the others. Whatever situation Nora was in, they would get her out of it quietly.
Garrick held out a hand and shouted for a hackney. The horses and small coach came to a stop before them, and he assisted Nora inside.
Once she was seated, he leaned in and her head went down. She was still trying to keep her face from him. Did she think him a fool? People often assumed that since he couldn’t speak. He pulled in a breath to cool his anger. “It’s dangerous.”
“It’s dangerous in Covent Garden? I know that.” She hadn’t asked him to explain his words. Instead, she guessed and completed his thought, which was what all his friends did. She most certainly was aware of who he was. He almost said her name.
Almost.
“W-why h-here?” he asked instead. Why did you come here?
“Thank you for the escort. It was very courteous of you, but I do not plan to stay a minute longer.”
She’d used a manual gesture when she’d said the word stay. She likely didn’t realize it, but she’d given her identity to him once again.
He hadn’t known Nora was learning with the others, though if she were watching George during his lessons, she would surely pick up enough.
He held onto the door. He suspected he would get no more out of her unless he exposed her. Therefore, he stepped back, closed the coach, and watched it roll away.
Then he turned and started for his original destination, Seat of Venus. It was a brothel he oversaw, for lack of a better word, though most days people thought him the owner. And perhaps, the changes he’d made had only made that assumption all the more real. He’d purchased it the first year after gaining his freedom four years ago. When he wasn’t busy with other matters, he was here for both pleasure and business.
The door was made of red stained glass. One could
see the light of the fireplace that pulsed with life across the room. It gave the appearance that one was entering the underworld, which was exactly what Garrick wanted.
See how Garrick and Nora’s story unfolds.
Get the story HERE.
Book List Order
Also by DEBORAH WILSON
∫ ∫ ∫
VALIANT LOVE SERIES
Book 1 - The Perfect Lady
Book 2 - The Perfect Gentleman
Book 3 - The Perfect Duke
Book 4 - The Last Duke
Book 5 - Mark of the Marquess
Book 6 - Dread of The Earl
Book 7 - Scar of The Duke
Book 8 - Wounds of A Viscount
Book 9 - Pain of The Marquess
∫ ∫ ∫
STANDALONE NOVELLA
The Lady's Masquerade
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Copyright and Disclaimer
Copyright © 2019 by Deborah Wilson - All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are either the product of author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this book in any form or by any electronic means without written permission from the author. Recording of this book is strictly prohibited. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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