To Love a Hellion (The London Lords Book 1) by Nicola Davidson

Author:Nicola Davidson [Davidson, Nicola]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-08-16T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Exhaling heavily, Stephen sat back in his chair, the padded leather’s smooth coolness a welcome balm to his bruised and battered body. “That went well.”

Caroline folded her arms and glared at him. “Don’t you dare attempt a joke. Or any more jostle nonsense. Why didn’t you tell me somebody pushed you?”

“Because I didn’t want to worry you.”

“But that person, whoever they are, tried to kill you. It was only sheer luck you weren’t brought home in pieces! A constable…the Runners…the government…need to be informed!”

“But that’s the thing. I can’t be at all sure they were trying to kill me. I don’t know if the person did it deliberately, or was trying to get out of the way of the crates and barrels…besides, I didn’t see anyone. What exactly would I say to a constable? I want to report that an unknown man or woman may or may not have pushed me in the middle of a noisy, precarious situation? There are far too many unknown variables to do any kind of reasonable analysis, Caroline.”

She snorted derisively, pacing back and forth several times before finally settling on an embroidered chaise. “Well, Mr. Mathematics, you may not see a pattern but I do. In the space of two weeks your life has been in grave danger twice. A little unlucky for one person, don’t you think?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“To my great misfortune. You’ve said some foolish things in your time, but that truly takes first prize.”

“Really? What part of my statement didn’t meet your stringent factual standards?”

“You are twisting information to suit and you bloody well know it,” he snapped. “Those poachers had no idea who I was. They merely saw the easiest of targets, a rich man with no weapons escorting several women in a secluded clearing. Besides, the two men were foolish amateurs, if I’d actually had a pistol at the time they would both be limping in the colonies for the rest of their lives. If they were true assassins, I’d be dead.”

“Stephen—”

He held up a hand. “No. Listen. As for today, you cannot be serious. How could anyone arrange a Piccadilly cart to take a corner too fast? I saw the driver’s face. He was doing his level best to avoid hitting me, even yelled at me to get out of the way. And he lost all his produce, too. Who would do that?”

But his wife wasn’t appeased. In fact she continued to glower at him, her expression the very portrait of righteous stubbornness.

“There are men who will do pretty much anything for a pile of guineas. Maybe even perform a rescue in the middle of nowhere.”

His jaw dropped. “Good God, woman, enough. I mean it. You’re starting to sound as unhinged as Mama when she talks about Gregory’s group of friends.”

“Very well then. Tell me all about this society if they are so innocent.”

Stephen picked up a pen and flipped it between his fingers. Never mind poachers and runaway carts, it was far more likely to be a blonde countess who caused his death.

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