Page 39 of More or Less a Countess
Scorn. Ridicule. Mockery. In the worst case, blatant contempt. In short, she’d expected much more, all of it unpleasant, but none of those things seemed to be forthcoming.
To her surprise, Violet found herself overwhelmed with an unfamiliar shyness, and she couldn’t quite meet his eyes. It was silly of her, of course. Was she going to fall into a girlish swoon just because he hadn’t laughed at her, or teased her? Had her expectations of aristocratic gentlemen truly sunk so low, or was it just her opinion of Lord Dare?
Guilt threatened, but Violet pushed it aside. If shehadunderestimated him, it was his own fault. For pity’s sake, she’d witnessed him debauching Lady Uplands with her own eyes! He was a terrible rake, and that hadn’t changed simply because he hadn’t openly mocked her. No, it was best for all concerned if she regarded Lord Dare as a useful tool and nothing more. He appeared to be willing to take her to Wapping still, and that was all that mattered.
“Shall we go, then?” She rose from the settee and began to move toward the drawing room door. “It’s early still, and it looks as though the weather might hold, so—”
“Miss Somerset.” He grabbed her hand and drew her to a halt before she could take another step, and a tiny shiver tickled up her spine when his warm palm pressed against hers.
“Yes?” She turned to him, and found those strange, silvery-gray eyes fixed on her with such intensity she looked away again at once, her heart pounding.
“Your book, it’s…fascinating.”
Violet went still, stunned at his praise, and then her eyes drifted closed.
Fascinating.
That word, the quiet admiration in his voice as he said it, his utter sincerity—Violet’s heart soared until it felt as if it would fly from her chest. Of all the things he could have said or done, nothing in the world could have pleased her more than that one word.
She didn’t trust herself to speak, but she squeezed his hand before she let it go and led him from the drawing room.
* * * *
“Oh, dear. It’s high tide. I hadn’t thought of that.” Violet stood at the top of Wapping Old Stairs and frowned down at the water washing over the lower half of the staircase. “Well, I’m afraid the sketch won’t look like much—just a half-flooded stairway, really.”
Lord Dare peered over her shoulder. “Better a half-flooded stairway than a half-dead body still twitching on the noose. Or worse, a bloated corpse. They don’t cut them down until three high tides have passed. I’ll wager you didn’t think of that, either.”
No, she hadn’t, and Violet shuddered at the thought now. She’d worked hard to make her book as accurate and realistic as possible, but she drew the line at bloated corpses. “Well, it can’t be helped, I suppose. I’ll have to do without Execution Dock, and the lower half of the staircase.”
She started to make her way down the stairs, but a large hand clamped down on her shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Violet turned to Lord Dare in surprise. “Why, down the stairs, of course. It will be a much better sketch if I stand closer to the bottom. The perspective is better looking up, and that way I can include part of the inn—”
“No.”
“No?” Violet gaped at him. “Why not?”
He pointed down the staircase in front of them. “Because the stairs are wet, Miss Somerset, and likely slippery. You’ll lose your footing and tumble head over heels, and the next thing I know you’ll be underwater, and then I’ll have to come in after you.”
“Oh, nonsense. I won’t fall, and even if I did, you won’t have to save me. I know how to swim.”
Violet tried to make her way down the stairs a second time, but Lord Dare wrapped a hand around her elbow and stopped her. “That water is cold, and there’s no way you could manage that tide in heavy, sodden skirts. No, I’m afraid it’s out of the question. You’ll have to get your sketch from here.”
Violet planted her hands on her hips. “Are you worried for me, or for yourself?”
His lips curled in an unrepentant grin. “Myself, of course. I don’t care for a frolic in the Thames, or a soggy drive back to Bedford Square.”
“Then stay where you are.” Violet pulled her arm from his grasp and began to pick her way down the stairs. “If I fall in, I’ll find my way back out without your assistance.”
He grasped her arm again. “I know you think me a rogue, Miss Somerset, but I’m also a gentleman. I won’t allow a lady to sink to the bottom of the Thames before my very eyes without lifting a finger to help.”
“Don’t think of me as a lady, Lord Dare. Think of me as a bluestocking. That should help to dampen your heroic instincts.”
“Why can’t you be both at once?” He cocked his head to the side, considering her. “After all, if a rogue can be a gentleman, then a bluestocking can be a lady.”
Violet didn’t recall ever having agreed a roguecouldbe a gentleman, but Lord Dare looked as if he’d relish a debate on the subject, and she wasn’t going to let him distract her. “Well, I’m more the first than the second, so you haven’t a thing to worry about, my lord.”
Violet tugged free of him for the third time, the matter settled as far as she was concerned, but Lord Dare didn’t agree, because he caught her arm again. “I don’t see why that should make any difference. Why shouldn’t I wish to prevent a bluestocking from drowning?”
