Page 9 of The Viscount's Silent Pugilist

Genevieve was probablysuffering from hallucinations as she froze to death, and all because she’d grown too feeble to withstand a late autumn freeze. She’d once read that the chilblains could result in odd symptoms. However, that information had also led her to believe that when one was overexposed to the cold, they grew numb and felt a sense of peace. How unfortunate that her demise didn’t take away a rumbling tummy, tingling limbs, aches and pains, or body odor. Dying, it seemed, felt a lot like her new, nightmarish life, except there was a handsome man squatting beside her, feeding Horatio tiny pieces of cheese. Her handsome savior, to be precise.

On second thought, maybe this was a dream with a bit of fantasy thrown in for good measure.

“Well, hallo there. Jonathan Davenport at your service.” Palm up, the man proffered the hunk of cheese.

She startled, and her muscles tightened. Pain shot through her, reminding her that she’d taken quite a beating from the boys.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “What’s your name?”

She bit her lip.

“I see.” His alluring green eyes studied her with a curious regard. “Let me guess. Anna? Or mayhap Ann?”

She gasped. Somehow, he had figured out that she was a woman. Surely her appearance and odor were far from feminine.

The blazing fire in the brazier silhouetted him in an angelic halo as his intense eyes bore into her soul. She looked away to search the alley for the pretty lady in the red pelisse. Since the woman didn’t seem to be anywhere close, Genevieve returned her gaze to her visitor.

“No?” he said. “Let me think… Maria?”

She knew she was rudely gawking, but she was beyond shocked. Not only did he know she wasn’t a man, but he’d also come back with food and stoked the fire. Since there was no need to keep the itchy, muddy cap on her head, she removed it and shook out her hair.

His gaze remained glued to hers as the strands, heavy with dirt, plopped against her shoulders.

“Hmm.” His brow rose and his lips pursed as if he were deep in thought. Eventually, he pulled a corner off the cheese and slid it beneath her nose. “Here. Eat.”

Grimy fingers on display, she plucked the sliver from his palm, popping it into her mouth. Jonathan tore off another piece and handed it to Horatio, who chomped it down in one bite.

“Your guard is easily bribed.” Jonathan grinned. “His loyalty can be bought with odiferous cheese. It’s all they had left at The Purple Rabbit at this late hour.”

Who cared how the cheese smelled because it was the most satisfying thing she’d ever eaten. Not that she could smell it over her own body odor. How unfortunate that they were both thinking about the stench of things when this man made her heart twirl as if she were an adolescent girl with a tendre.

“Is there somewhere I can take you where you will be safe and warm?” He feigned a shiver. “’Tis a cold one.”

If she had somewhere else to be, she wouldn’t be sleeping against a cold brick wall, accepting food from a stranger.

“Bloody fool,” he whispered as if talking to himself. “If there were, I suppose you wouldn’t be sleeping on the ground.”

Exactly.

He stood. “Come along, then.” He crooked his index finger.

Besides her jaw dropping even lower, she didn’t move.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m rather harmless.” He gnashed his teeth and chuckled. “As long as one doesn’t find my questionable sense of humor too offensive.”

Not only was Jonathan Davenport handsome, but he was also rather charming. Genevieve giggled.

“That’s better,” he said. “My mother loves company, and our cook is the best in London. Just ask anyone.”

Surely, he wasn’t taking herhometo his aristocratic mother, because, in this current state, she was more a stray than acceptable company.

“After my sister married Lord Lionel, she left some frocks in her wardrobe. They might be too large for you, but they are yours if you want them. If you prefer trousers, you can have a pair of mine until we find you something that fits.”

Apparently, that was exactly what he meant, since he was letting her pick through his sister’s dresses and his bottoms.

“We have a bathtub, too,” he said.

She’d survived the elements to die from embarrassment.