Her rescuer wiped his sword again and sheathed it in one easy move. He turned to her and bowed. “I beg your pardon for his offensive language.”
“How did you know who he was?” It was the first of at least five questions to which she wanted answers.
“The man is tall with a girth to match and an accent he didn’t learn at school in England. Not many like that in Birmingham. It was an educated guess.”
“And who are you?”
“A man when you needed one. Names are hardly necessary.”
“Then you have the advantage of me.”
He smiled and his face went from dangerous to delightful. “You don’t believe that any more than I do. Ladies always have the advantage.”
Was he flirting with her? She hefted her sample bag and used the voice that cowed her help. “You, sir, are a rogue.”
“And you are not the first to say that.” The smile tempered to an amused disappointment.
“Oh dear.” Lydia hated it when she stated the obvious. It was an awful habit. “I would so much rather be original.”
“You are definitely an original, Mrs. Chernov. I have no doubt of that. From your name, to your vicious weapon disguised as a bag, to your presence in this neighborhood at this hour, you are very much an original.”
Before she could decide how to answer, he continued. “Tell me where you are bound and I will see you there safely.”
What a conundrum, Lydia thought. She hardly wanted to walk on alone but neither did she want to tell him where she was going. It was supposed to be a secret.
“I can guess. To see a customer, a lady, someone you call on in the evening because you would also like to see her husband.”
Lydia almost dropped her satchel. How could he know that?
“We are within a short walk of Posey Hill, which I assume is your direction, but I do think that a carriage would be far more comfortable.”
As if by magic, a covered conveyance rolled to a halt behind him.
“Who are you?” Lydia asked again.
“If you must have a name, call me Jessup.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jessup, but I think I will send a message to my customer and tell her that I will not be able to keep the appointment. I am more than a little distracted at the moment.”
“You disappoint me, Mrs. Chernov. I would think that someone with your obvious independence would not be deterred by the idle threat of a man like Novokov.”
It was not Novokov who was making her nervous. Mr. Jessup showed signs of being a bully himself. With a much more charming approach, but a bully nonetheless. She had enough experience of the type to know how to deal with them.
She made her eyes fill with water and looked up at him. “I need to return home. I will send a boy to cancel my appointment. Please, can you help me?”
“Of course, madam. I would be a pig myself if I did not.” Mr. Jessup opened the carriage, offering his hand to help her inside as he called the direction to the driver.
She was wearing gloves. He was not. He squeezed her hand a little and the heat of his fingers traveled to warm parts of her that had been stone cold for much too long.
She missed the carriage step and almost fell. Mr. Jessup caught her by the waist and steadied her and made to lift her into the conveyance.
She shook her head and moved out of his grasp. She did not want Mr. Jessup any closer.
“Good-bye, sir.”
“Good night only, Mrs. Chernov.”
She shook her head and knocked on the roof for the hackney to move on. No one knew better than she did that station and place in life meant nothing when it came to one body responding to another. A man in her life or, God help her, in her bed was a complication she would never entertain again. This was good-bye.
Courtesan’s Kiss is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
2010 Bantam Books Mass Market Original
Copyright © 2010 by Mary Blayney
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Bantam Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
BANTAM BOOKS is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc., and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
eISBN: 978-0-553-90773-5
www.bantamdell.com
v3.0
Mary Blayney - [Pennistan 04] Page 30