She got the very strong feeling he was the one she needed protection from.
Clenching her fists, she held her ground. “Move now, sir.”
His hand came up, cupping her chin as he leaned closer. And then, without thought, and apparently a great imagination as to her capabilities after a two-minute view of a pugilist in action, she thrust her fist forward and into the man’s face.
He pulled back, scowling for a second before his mouth curled into a sneer.
Drat.
“Nice try, sweetheart, but that felt rather like a fly pestering my cheek.”
It was her gloves. Surely if she hadn’t been wearing them, she would have had more impact. She went to open her mouth and give him a snarky retort, but a figure rounded the corner, walking toward her and the man at an alarming speed.
“What is going on here?” the duke bellowed, his voice echoing off the wall beside them.
“I—” What was she to say?I followed you because I have an insatiable curiosity.Louisa decided to be straightforward, but her words came out less determined and forceful than she had hoped. “I followed you.”
“I see that,” he said, not looking at her but at the man who had presumably tried to kiss her. “Did you just touch my wife?”
The man shrank back. “No, a’course not. I was only making sure she wasn’t lost.”
“I saw you cupping her chin.” His dukely stoicism seemed to be holding on by a thread. Louisa could see the tense set of his shoulders, the tightening of his fists, as his cold voice washed over her.
The duke turned to look at her for confirmation, and when he did, the other man pulled a knife from his pocket.
“Robert!” Louisa shrieked.
His head snapped back to the man, and in a moment, he grabbed the front of the ruffian’s threadbare jacket, lifting him off the ground and throwing him up against the wall. Robert snatched the knife from his hand, then tossed it across the alleyway. It skittered over the ground as Robert brought his other fist up to grip the man’s lapels, holding him dangling in the air.
Louisa had never thought she would see the fruit of his strength in action. It was . . . unnerving. Mostly because she had a strong feeling she would replay this in her head over and over for the foreseeable future.
“Did he touch you?” Robert demanded.
“I mean, yes, I suppose he held my chin—” Her words came out in a stammer.
The duke’s eyes narrowed, and Louisa feared for the man’s safety, even though he had nearly accosted her. But fear was not the only emotion pouring over her skin.
“You are lucky you did not get any further than you did.” Robert turned—the man in his grip flailing about—until Robert finally threw him onto the ground. The perpetrator scurried backward as a mouse would from a cat on the prowl. But Robert did not look like a cat. Unless he was a lion—powerful, lean, muscled, nimble . . .
She shook her head.
“Now leave,” Robert all but growled, his hands in fists at his side.
The man did not waste time, standing to his feet and running off. And just when Louisa felt a bit of relief, panic surged through her as Robert swiveled toward her.
“What are you doing here?”
His demanding tone caused her attitude to switch in an instant from uncertainty to confidence. He was not her keeper. “Me?” She put a hand to her chest. “I only followedyou.”
“You could have been assaulted. You very nearly were!” His hands went from his head to flinging out in the air, until they finally found purchase on his hips. “Had I not seen you in that window—”
“If you had told me where you were going, I would not have felt the need to follow.”
This brought him up short, his chest heaving.
Louisa’s eyes trailed over his arms and chest. It was a different view, unencumbered by his usual attire, his shirt unbuttoned, and his sleeves rolled up his arms—and not at all unpleasant. His jacket, waistcoat, and cravat were likely forgotten in his haste to figure out why a strange woman was pressed against a window.
She took a bracing breath. “I know you sneak out at night,” she said, raising her chin.
