Ana shivered. This must have been what he was like on the battlefield, a lethal warrior, a vengeful god from Greek mythology, prepared to kill to defend her honor.
She’d never been able to picture her gentle, book-loving father riding into battle with sword raised, on a gigantic charger. But if he’d had this fearsome giant leading his regiment, he’d have felt invincible.
The men, hardened street denizens that they were, looked like knock-kneed schoolboys next to him. It was obvious that they felt like schoolboys, too. Their body language had shifted to that of puppies backing away in shameful terror from a threatening cat.
“Now, now, no need for threats, guvnor, we was only inquiring as to the lady’s welfare.” The big one’s hands were splayed out in a placating gesture, while the other was already inching away, wormlike.
“We didn’t mean no harm. Only coming to the aid of a lady, that’s all.” Touching their caps, they backed up a bit more, before turning and lurching off around the corner, coats flapping behind them.
The duke remained in his confrontational stance. Ana movedout from his shadow and looked up at his face, reading the strength and purpose beneath the scars.
“Warburton.” She touched his arm softly. “They’re gone.”
From a distance, her quiet voice reached him. He was far away, standing on a smoky battlefield drenched in blood. He had been ready to fight, to end them. To protect her honor.
With a visible effort, he shook himself back into the present and let the tension fall from his shoulders. “I’m sorry you had to hear that. Come, let’s not linger here. My carriage awaits.” He reached behind her head and she flinched, but he was only drawing up the hood of her cloak. “Keep your hair covered. Speak to no one.”
“Wait.” She bent over, searching the ground. “My pencil. It was brand-new.”
“Leave it. I’ll buy you a hundred more. If you promise not to stab me with them, that is.”
She shrugged. “A girl has a right to defend herself against what she thought was a craven attempt to purchase her person. Why didn’t you explain yourself immediately?”
“I tried to—you wouldn’t listen. You lashed out like a cornered alley cat.”
“Miss Flanagan, my landlady, has a sister who runs a house of ill repute. She’s been attempting to recruit me. Just before you arrived, she said that her sister had a nobleman in mind for me. And then you arrived at the door, saying you were my guardian. What was I to think? I assumed that I was in grave danger.”
“You’re in grave danger if you stay in that boarding house. You’re coming home with me.” He took her arm and steered her back down the alley.
Her father had asked a duke to be her guardian.
Her world had changed in an instant.
“You don’t have to hold me so tightly. I’m not going to run away again.”
His only response, a dismissive grunt, his face shadowed and set into hard lines.
He had his prize. He wouldn’t let her get away.
His carriage waited near the boarding house in the gathering gloom, as huge and glowering as its owner, waiting to swallow her whole.
His family crest painted in blood red on the door, the dragon rampant over the shield, its claws outstretched, a stylized plume of flames licking the air.
The sight of it gave her the shivers. The Dread Dragon Qavox, just as she’d imagined him. A coachman opened the door for her but she hesitated, shivers still chasing up and down her spine. “Where are you taking me?”
“To my townhouse, where you’ll be safe. You’re never to step foot in that boarding house again.”
“But I must collect my things, meager as they may be. My most treasured possessions are the letters my father wrote to me during the war and a jewelry box of my mother’s, even though it’s empty now.”
“On that score...” He reached inside his coat and when he withdrew his hand, gold sparkled in the dim light. “I used this jewelry to trace your existence. I purchased it back for you.”
“My mother’s necklace!”
“And the ear drops.” He gave them to her and she held them marveling at how fate had returned her most precious possessions. A tear trickled down her cheek. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
“I’ll send someone round to collect your things and settle your debts tomorrow. Now get in the carriage, Miss Crewe.”
The coachman waited impassively, holding the door open, waiting for her to climb in.