Page 2 of Pride of Lyons

He chuckled and lowered his lips to her ear, the light contact setting every hair on her body on end. “I assure you, Honoria, I can. I will.” His lips descended to the tender flesh just below her jaw. “I think I can even make you come to enjoy it.”

He darted his tongue out onto her skin, and Honoria’s squeal of terror caught in her throat.

Did he mean to take her here and now?

“Look at the facts, my dear. Your reputation was ruined the moment I entered this carriage.” He licked the rim of her ear, then inserted his tongue into it, the moist sound making her cringe. “I cannot allow my wife’s mother to be attended by a ruined woman, so I suggest you allow me to help you find a different position.” He leaned back, and she stared into eyes as deeply black as any demon’s. “As my mistress.”

“No.” Honoria shook her head violently. Even if her reputation was purportedly in shreds, at least she could still claim her virtue. Little matter if no one else believed her. She would know the truth.

Lord Danford shrugged. “I think you may change your mind after we’ve spent several days together in bed.” He leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “I can be very generous with you if you are equally generous with me.”

Then, quicker than a striking snake, he sank his mouth onto hers.

Completely shocked, Honoria couldn’t think what to do, leaving Lord Danford to take full advantage of her paralyzed body. Thrusting his tongue into her mouth, he plundered here and there, then pushed incredibly deeply into her throat until she almost gagged.

Rearing back, she brought her arms up between them, planted her hands squarely on his chest, and heaved him across the carriage into the opposite corner. His head hit the windowpane with a crack, eliciting a groan from the man.

Lord Danford slowly sat up rubbing the back of his head. He cocked his head and frowned, like a puzzled hound. Without hesitation, Honoria grabbed the door handle, wrenched it downward, and threw it open.

The cobbled pavement flew by with dizzying speed, but she had no other choice. Taking a deep breath, and sending up a fervent prayer, she jumped.

Fortunately, the traffic had stalled, so the carriage had slowed substantially before her leap to freedom. Honoria hit the pavement with both feet, staggered, and miraculously remained standing. Thank goodness for sturdy half-boots. She gazed around, ignoring the stares of the passersby, many of whom had stopped to gape at her abrupt appearance. Nothing about the area seemed familiar to her at all. Still, she had escaped Lord Danford, and by God, she intended to remain that way.

The buildings on either side of the street towered over her, forbidding brownstone outlined in a severe white. Honoria had no idea if they were residences or businesses, but if she could hide from Lord Danford in one of them, she wouldn’t care if it was a house of ill repute. Picking up her skirts, Honoria ran toward the closest building, up onto a stoop, and banged on the door.

Nothing. Not even a hint of noise from within to suggest anyone was coming to the door. She glanced over her shoulder at the halted carriage, and her breath stopped when Lord Danford emerged to scan the street for her. Honoria raced away toward the end of the street as though the devil was at her heels, turned the corner at a breakneck pace, and almost collided with a portly gentleman who said, “My word!” and raised his quizzer to peer at her.

“Pardon, milord,” she mumbled, then skirted around him and sprinted down the street. Her breath came in wheezing gasps now as she dodged in-between the people on the crowded street. Where could she go to seek sanctuary? Any other block would have a church that might take her in, but this street also boasted only dark, inhospitable buildings. Save for the one at the end of the street.

Standing at four or five stories, the structure ahead of her was certainly imposing, just as the others that surrounded it. But this one was painted a pale blue and with myriad windows lined in white, seemed to exude hospitality, as though it beckoned passersby in. It seemed the perfect place to apply for succor.

Honoria started for the welcoming front door only to be brought up short when she was all but upon it. Two rather tall, husky gentlemen stepped in front of the door, as though they were guarding it. A glance over her shoulder gave her a nasty turn: Lord Danford had just emerged onto the street, peering up and down it. He’d see her standing here any moment. It was all or nothing now.

Stalking up to the closer of the two guards, Honoria squared her shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “Whose house is this, may I ask?”

The guards exchanged a glance. “Whose do you think it is?”

Desperation made her next words sharper than ever before. “I wouldn’t ask you if I knew, now would I?”

A chuckle from the near man made her clench her teeth. “Maybe you would and maybe you wouldn’t, miss. Who’re you looking for?”

“I’m looking for anyone who will help me.” She wanted so badly to turn again and see if Lord Danford had spotted her but was too afraid of what she might discover.

Again, the guards exchanged a glance, and the one who hadn’t yet spoken pointed to the corner of the house. “Ladies’ entrance is ’round the side here. Pr’haps Hermia or Helena will be able to help you.”

The strange names made Honoria pause only a moment before she nodded and hurried in the direction the man had indicated. She called, “Thank you,” as she turned the corner and ran full out up the flight of stairs to an entryway on the second floor. This door was also guarded—what was this place—by two imposing women dressed in men’s clothing, who Honoria assumed were Hermia and Helena. “Can you help me?”

“Do you have an appointment?” The first woman cocked her head and gave Honoria a thorough look from her disheveled head to her muddy half-boots.

“No, I’m sorry I do not. But I need help desperately.” She glanced down the stairs, dreading to see Lord Danford racing up them. “There’s a gentleman pursuing me who I must escape from. If I do not, I’ll be ruined.” Honoria looked from one impassive face to the other. “Please, I beg of you, help me.”

“Do you know Mrs. Dove-Lyon?”

Honoria nodded, even though she’d never heard the name before.

“Can you pay for her services?”

On the tip of her tongue to ask what those services were, Honoria decided she didn’t really care. If they kept her safe from his lordship, what did it matter? And no, she couldn’t pay—all her hard-earned money was back in her room at Danford House. But these women didn’t have to know that. Honoria had never lied in her life, but needs must when the devil drives. “Yes, yes I can pay.”