Page 5 of Mail-Order Viscountess

He could actually do something about this situation.

The four men didn’t look up as he approached their table. Too focused on their cards and their captive audience.

Up close, the girl looked even younger—maybe sixteen. A smudge of dirt marked her jaw beneath the powder, and the dress hung loose on her thin frame. Her eyes flicked to Thomas for a half second, and something in that look—hope mixed with terror—made his jaw tighten.

“Gentlemen.” He kept his voice easy, his posture relaxed. He’d learned years ago that the appearance of calm could diffuse most any situation. “Wondering if I might borrow the lady for a minute.”

The man holding the girl finally looked up. His face wore hard angles and old scars, with eyes that had gone flat from too much whiskey or too much disappointment. Probably both. “We’re in the middle of a game.”

“I can see that.” Thomas smiled—the charming, harmless smile that made people underestimate him. “Won’t take but a minute. The lady’s employer is looking for her.”

“Her employer?” The man tugged the girl a little, and she winced. “That would be Nelson, and he’s right here.”

Thomas slid his gaze to the man he’d called Nelson—a wiry fellow with thinning hair and a mouth like a knife slash. The one who’d laughed loudest at whatever crude joke had been made.

Nelson eyed him. The gleam in his eyes that said he might be willing to hand her off to Thomas if that increased the profit in his pocket for the girl’s time. Would buying an hour—or an afternoon—really do much to help her though? She needed a new home. A new life. And he couldn’t give her either. Probably.

Or could he? If he bought her freedom, would she have a place to go? Friends or family back East?

What was he thinking? He couldn’t rescue every girl in every mining town saloon in the Montana Territory.

But the way her fingers trembled against the table edge...

“How much?” He pulled two coins from his pocket—money he’d brought to buy supplies for California, for a fresh start that apparently his brothers were determined to prevent.

Nelson’s eyes lit up. “Depends on what you’re wanting.”

“Just her time. For the afternoon.” The words tasted sour, but he kept his expression neutral. “I’ll pay double your usual rate if you let her go now.”

The man holding the girl—the one with the scarred face—tightened his grip. “We ain’t done with her yet.”

“Jake.” Nelson leaned forward, his gaze fixed on the silver in Thomas’s hand. “Let the man have what he’s paying for.”

“I said we ain’t done.”

The temperature in the room shifted—that moment when a situation teetered between resolution and violence. The other two men at the table had gone still. Waiting to see which direction this would tip.

He’d talked his way out of worse situations than this. He could do it again.

“I’m not looking for trouble.” He kept his hands visible, the money in his open palm. “Only want to spend some time with the lady. You’ll get your cut, I’ll get her, and everyone walks away happy.”

Jake’s chair scraped against the floorboards as he stood, still gripping the girl. He was a big man—taller than Thomas by a few inches and built like someone who’d spent years swinging a pickaxe. The kind of size that usually ended arguments before they started.

Thomas didn’t move. Just kept an easy smile in place.

The bar lay behind him—maybe eight strides away. The door to his left, blocked by another table. The other two men were still seated, but they’d be on their feet in seconds if this went bad.

“You think you can walk in here and take what you want?” Jake’s breath hit his face, reeking of whiskey and decay.

“I think I offered fair payment for the lady’s time.” He shifted his weight so he could move if needed. The girl had gone rigid in Jake’s grip, her eyes wide. “I imagine Nelson will give your money back.”

Jake’s mouth twisted into something that might have been a smile on a friendlier face. “Maybe I don’t want the money.”

The other two men stood now. Chairs scraped across floorboards. The sound seemed far too loud in the sudden quiet. All other patrons had gone still. Waiting.

His own pulse surged through his body, but he kept his breathing steady.

He’d been in worse spots than this. That time in Fort Benton when he’d accidentally insulted a trapper’s wife. The cattle thieves two years ago. The stallion that had nearly crushed his ribs.