“Yes, Your Grace, all set.”
With his hand still in Lady Ridlington’s, Francis pulled her into the carriage and closed the door heavily, just before the coach set off. One glance through the window showed that quite a crowd had gathered around the would-be thief, with the gentleman still standing by, clearly waiting for that constable to arrive.
“A constable?” Lady Ridlington’s voice made Francis snap his gaze away from the window and turn back toward her. She was sitting on the edge of the bench beside him, her eyes wide and breathing heavily having run so fast. “What if –”
“No one saw you,” Francis said with feeling. “You need not worry about that.” Yet he was not convinced by his own words. For one horrid minute in the fight with the thief, he had been certain that the thief had seen Lady Ridlington was no boy.
What does it matter though if a thief saw her?
“Do you think you were recognized?” Lady Ridlington asked.
“No,” he said, feeling confident. “I did not recognize that gentleman. It has been a while since I was so regular at events in the ton, and I didn’t see anyone else in the street I knew either.”
“Then…no constable will come and visit you?”
“Let’s hope not,” he said tightly. If a constable did come to visit him at home, he would just have to ensure that Lady Ridlington was still well hidden in the house.
“You stopped him.”
“What?” Francis said, his gaze settling on her face. She pushed the hat up a little with her free hand, revealing her complexion had turned a little pale. He lost himself thinking of those beautiful features that were still contorted in fear. It was not the way they belonged. Lady Ridlington should have been enjoying life to the full, not scared of the law coming and knocking on her door.
“You stopped him so easily. You knew what to do, how to stop him before he…before he could hurt you,” she said, her words holding a kind of marveling tone in them.
“I wasn’t going to give him a chance to hurt either you or I with that knife,” he said with animation, shaking his head. When the thief had moved toward Lady Ridlington, Francis had been surprised by the sheer jolt of fear in his stomach.
I can never let any harm come to her.
She held his gaze for a minute, just as he realized that their hands were still entwined. It was an intense moment, with their eyes on one another and that tight grasp between them.
What am I doing!?The thought tore through the intensity of the moment. All want to keep her close vanished when he thought of the scandal that could ensue if he got his emotions tangled up with Lady Ridlington.
He snatched his hand away and turned, breaking the connection between them. The two of them descended into silence, the only sounds being that of the heavy breathing from running.
“Are you all right?” he asked after a minute of quiet, still worried for her safety after the fight.
“I am fine. I am absolutely fine,” she said with a small laugh. The sound startled him. “I have had an idea.”
“What is that?”
“Teach me.”
“Teach you what?” he asked.
“Teach me how to fight like that.” Her words made him look back to her.
“Are you sure you want that?” he asked.
“I have never been so certain of anything,” she said. The strong way in which she had spoken, and her spine had straightened made her look like a grand regal lady, despite the boy’s clothes and cap she wore. Francis thought she belonged at that moment at the front of a ballroom, commanding attention of everyone around, not stuck in a carriage with him in hiding. He admired her, more than he could say.
“Very well. Training starts tomorrow,” he said, watching as she smiled.
* * *
“Ah! It’s no use,” Phoebe cried as she dropped the sword another time. Hayward went to pick up the weapon as she turned away, placing her hands on her hips and sighing at the lack of progress she was making.
That day, Hayward had started on her lessons, deciding it was best to progress a little more with fencing first, before he intended to teach her some hand-to-hand combat skills.
“I can’t get used to the force of it,” Phoebe said, bending back her right hand and cracking the bones there. “Ow.”
