Page 40 of More or Less a Countess
She tugged at her arm, then glared at him when he refused to release her. “A bluestocking wouldn’t drown! Any self-respecting lady of knowledge has all she requires to save herself, Lord Dare.”
“Does she, indeed? Well, forgive me, Miss Somerset, but you didn’t look as if you were on the verge of saving yourself when I found you at the mercy of that footpad last night.”
“Do you see any footpads about, my lord?”
“No. I see one small woman about four steps away from tumbling into the Thames River, and if it came down to a contest between you, I’d wager on the Thames.”
Violet blew out an irritated breath. Goodness, he was stubborn—perhaps even more stubborn than she was, a state of affairs that would have shocked her grandmother. “Very well, my lord. What would you have me do, then?”
“Take your sketch from the top of the staircase looking down, of course. Didn’t I already say so?”
Violet glanced down the staircase again to get a sense of what the sketch might look like taken from that angle, and shook her head. “No. That won’t do. You’ll have to come up with something else.”
“Oh, I already have. In another twenty seconds I’m going to throw you over my shoulder, toss you into my carriage, and drive you back to Bedford Square without any sketch at all.”
Violet’s mouth fell open. “I—you wouldn’t dare!”
He grinned at her outraged expression. “Oh, I assure you, I would. I may strive to be a gentleman, but in your case, Miss Somerset, I find the rogue is far more useful.”
He said this with the most intriguingly boyish smile, but despite his playful grin, Violet knew without a doubt he wouldn’t hesitate to throw her over his shoulder and march her back to his carriage, and he’d do it without a word of argument or apology.
“Five steps only, Lord Dare. I won’t be anywhere near the water that way, and it should bring me low enough to get the perspective I need.”
He glanced behind her at the frothing water below, and shook his head. “Two steps.”
It took all of Violet’s restraint not to roll her eyes. Confound the man! Whoever would have thought a careless rogue like Lord Dare could be so infuriatingly protective? “Three. Come now, my lord. You must be able to see I can’t make do with fewer than three.”
He hesitated, then at last let out a beleaguered sigh. “Three steps, then.” He released her arm and pushed past her, down the stairs.
Violet watched him, puzzled. “Where are you going?”
“Down to the fourth step, of course.”
For all his talk of slipperiness, Violet couldn’t help but notice his progress down the stairs was graceful and confident. “But why?”
Another heavy sigh. “Why do you think? To block you from falling into the water if you slip. Here.” He held out his hand. “Give me your sketchbook before you come down, then take my hand.”
Violet didn’t hand him her book, but clutched it to her chest in an instinctive movement, her breath hitching in a strange, suspended moment of exhilaration and panic. She stared down at him, at the sun catching in his hair, and for the first time she noticed the subtle auburn highlights in the dark waves.
Thickly lashed gray eyes, silky dark hair, a hard chest, and a lean, taut body wrapped in a lovely scarlet waistcoat—it was more than enough to render any lady breathless. But Violet wasn’t any lady. Oh, she’d noticed how attractive he was, of course. She wasn’t blind, after all. And then he smelled so wonderful, and everyone knew scent was a vital component of personal attraction—one need look no further than Monsieur Floris’s perfumery in St. James’s Square for proof ofthat—but even all his attractions taken together weren’t enough to make Violet’s heart quicken with awareness.
But this…this was kindness, a sincere concern for the safety of someone he believed needed his protection. Whether she did or not didn’t matter one whit. It was, at its very heart, true gentlemanliness—the sort every aristocrat pretended to, and so few of them possessed.
She’d fallen in love with Lord Derrick because he was a true gentleman.
But Lord Dare…
She never would have dreamed he could pose a threat to her heart.
“Aren’t you coming, Miss Somerset? Don’t tell me after all that fuss and bother you’ve changed your mind?”
He was gazing up at her, his hand still extended to help her down, and Violet’s heart began to crash against her ribs as the tingle of exhilaration was swallowed by alarm. Oh,whydid he have to be the only rogue in London who was a gentleman? She didn’twanthim to be kind and sincere—not when he had such lovely gray eyes and such a sly, playful smile. Dear God, was it too much to ask he be nothing more than a dreadful rake, and stoop-shouldered and squinty-eyed into the bargain—
“The tide is still rising, Miss Somerset. In another few minutes I’ll be up to my ankles in the filthy water of the Thames, so if it’s not too much trouble, would you mind—”
“You don’t need to stand below me, my lord. I told you I won’t slip.”
“If you won’t slip then I have nothing to fear, and in that case, there’s no reason why I shouldn’t stand here, is there?”
