And then things got worse, because of course they did. It was really just that sort of day.
“Well, well, well. I’d like to say I’m surprised, but knowing her family … and her character, I can’t say that I’m shocked to see Lady Clio Warson in the midst ofanotherscandal.”
Clio jolted back to attention, wrenching herself away from the man who’d saved her at the sound of Gwanton’s voice. He’d been, as usual, overly loud, and when she turned to glare at him, she saw that he’d already gotten the crowd around him muttering and pointing, looking shocked.
There was a smudge of blood still on his cheek, Clio noted, not without some measure of satisfaction.
She did not feel nearly as pleased with herself as Gwanton looked, as he once again loudly announced, “I am sure, Lady Clio, that you now agree. This can spellnothingbut your utter ruination.”
CHAPTER 4
Miss Warson—no,Lady Clio,this newcomer had called her, Hector reminded himself—looked as though she couldn’t decide if she wanted to go pale with shock or red with fury. Her complexion ended up somewhere in the middle, two bright spots of color appearing on her cheeks.
To Hector’s dismay, he still found her unquestionably beautiful, even when she’d gone a bit splotchy. He’d almost forgotten how lovely she was when she was a voice emerging from shadowy darkness, but the dramatic lines of her dark brows and creamy skin were impossible to ignore now that she was back in the sunlight.
He was even more dismayed to find that he felt a surge of protectiveness when she looked upset at the newcomer’s arrival.
“Can I help you,sir?” Hector asked, raising his chin defiantly, putting a world of disdain on the title. The man was wearingthe ugliest waistcoat that Hector had ever seen in his life. It had clearly cost a fortune.
That told Hector everything he needed to know about this louse, and that was even before he’d tried to shame a distraught woman in the street.
“It’slord,” the man corrected, his squashed face twisting unpleasantly. There was something wrong with his nose, which looked swollen and was giving a distinctly nasal quality to his words. “Lord Gwanton. And it is my righteous duty as an Englishman and a gentleman to inform you that the woman you were justembracing right here in the street—” He raised his voice for this part. “—is a known Jezebel.”
Hector was going to protest this—Lady Clio might be an irksome little princess, but this was going a bit far. But she finally roused out of her shock.
“Oh, go blow your hot air elsewhere, Gwanton,” she snapped. “Nobody cares what you have to think.”
Gwanton sneered unpleasantly at Lady Clio, then winced. That had evidently hurt whatever was going on with his face. Hector didn’t even bother hiding that this amused him.
“I would assume that this fellow here wants to know,” he retorted. “You are a mere hussy, whereasIam anearl. Who do you think he’s going to believe?”
Hector didn’t like to throw around his title, mostly because he despised men like this Gwanton, who did so in order to bully others. But if there was ever a time to throw around his ducal authority, this was it.
He gave the man a smile that lasted just long enough to let the other lord lower his guard. Then he said, “Well, that might impress me, Gwanton, if not for the fact that I am a duke.”
Gwanton let out a humorless laugh.
“Very clever, man,” he said, not sounding at all like he believed it. “But you would do well to show respect to your betters.”
For the first time since setting foot in London, Hector was enjoying himself.
“I would,” he said, “if I saw any of them around.”
Gwanton sputtered, which was fantastically entertaining.
“Are you really a duke?” Lady Clio asked out of the corner of her mouth, not that this was going to get them much in the way of privacy. There were at least a dozen people watching them now, and more were stopping to observe at every opportunity.
“I am,” he told her.
She dropped her head against her hand.
“Oh, this is so bad,” she muttered.
Gwanton had finally found his words … and recovered his sneer.
“You will regret this,” he told Hector. “You cannot claim to be a member of the aristocracy without repercussions.”
“Oh, let me assure you,” Hector returned, “I would not falsely claim to be a member of any group of whichyouare a part. It is only with utmost reluctance that I confess to being born into the class that has so clearly rotted your brain to mush. Because,” he went on, while the earl gaped. He really was a prodigious one for gasping and puffing. “You must have little more than fluff between your ears if you couldn’t recognize that this was anemergency, not a scandal. You idiot.”
