Page 6 of The Viscount's Silent Pugilist

However, that wasn’t the most shocking thing happening in that alley, because a bolt of something that felt a lot like lust shot through Jonathan. Horrified, he took a step back, putting space between himself and the tatterdemalion.

Celeste rested her hand on Jonathan’s shoulder.

He sighed in relief. His odd reaction was not due to this filthy, feminine man who fought like a warrior; it was simply Celeste’s presence making him react lecherously.

“Are you injured?” Celeste asked the man.

His big blue eyes blinked, and his dark lashes fluttered but he didn’t answer.

“Here.” Celeste offered him a coin. “For the bread.”

The man hesitated before reaching out with his dainty, dirty fingers, accepting the gift. Celeste smiled. The man smiled back.

The devil take Jonathan. What kind of street beggar had a mouthful of straight white teeth?

But he had no more time to ponder because the man turned, and then sprinted down the alley. The mangy dog trotted after him.

Celeste swiped her palms together as if the situation was done and over with. “That poor man is starving to death. Did you see his hollow cheeks?”

Jonathan had noticed them all right. Those high cheekbones could have cut glass.

“Shall we head to my place now?” she asked.

Truthfully, he wanted to go home, have his staff prepare a hot bath, scrub the stink of the alley from his body, and then go to sleep. But Viscount Jonathan Davenport did not crawl into bed alone, befuddled by some guttersnipe he didn’t know. He pushed his feelings deep.

With a growl, he drew Celeste into his arms and peppered kisses down her neck.

Chapter Two

Hiding in theshadows close to the dying fire in the brazier, Genevieve huddled against her pup as the two of them shared stringy meat and stale bread. As hungry as she was, Genevieve offered Horatio the last bite of what might be beef. He swallowed it whole, then thanked her with a lick along her cheek. Giggling, she patted him between the ears.

She and Horatio had come a long way since their first meeting about a week ago, when they’d had a scuffle over a rotting, raw potato. After they’d snarled at each other, she’d made peace by biting off chunks and sharing it with him.

On second thought, maybe their introduction had happened two weeks ago. Since leaving home, she’d lost track of time. Dreary days faded into cold nights, which faded into dreary days. Whatever the case, Horatio was the one bright spot in her repetitive nightmare. The two of them were inseparable as they wandered the streets searching for warmth and sustenance.

Once they’d found almost an entire pork pasty lying behind The Purple Rabbit. She’d been giddy, and Horatio had wagged his tail in delight.

Ah, good times!

Earlier tonight, the large man who sometimes let her warm herself in the basement while watching the boxing matches, had opened the back door and tossed her a moldy loaf of bread. “Here ye go,” he said in a small, high-pitched voice. “Whale will try to have more for ye on the morrow, I will.”

Whale, if that was truly his name, had done this same thing a few days ago. If only she could have articulated her appreciation to this giant of a man with a prodigious heart and childish voice—a voice a lot like hers.

Undoubtedly, if she hadn’t been attacked, she’d have torn the mold off and given those hunks to Horatio. The pup wasn’t too choosy. He didn’t even mind maggots.

Unfortunately, their coveted bread currently lay in a mud puddle because of the street gang who followed her and Horatio around, tormenting them. She’d have scooped what she could off the ground if two comely aristocrats had not been watching her.

No matter, though, because this meal, as meager as it was, was superior to dirt-covered, furry bread. If she ever got herself out of this muddle, she would find the lovely lady who’d given her the coin to purchase the food, and repay her.

Genevieve whimpered. What was she thinking? Chances of her ever returning to her previous world were probably slim to none. Tears she didn’t want to shed wet her face. Using her filthy sleeve, she swiped at her eyes.

Was this to be her life forever? Missing her siblings so much that she could barely breathe? Eating rubbish? Roaming the streets in disguise while hiding from her murderous father?

Chin up,she scolded herself. Surely, Christopher would find her. He’d even thought to leave a note beneath a rock in their special place. Although the message was now faded and soggy, it remained in her coat pocket. She’d read it so many times, she’d committed it to memory.

G.

Don’t come home yet. I have no doubts he will kill you for running away. He is as angry as I’ve ever seen him since he needs to pay £1,000 to clear his debt to K. Go tothe London House, and I will send word when it’s safe to return. I’ll take excellent care of S. I love you.