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“I shall, of course, carry them for you,” Lord Scarborough announced in a tone that suggested he’d never heard anything more ludicrous than a woman carrying her own over-stuffed valise and a sadly broken umbrella. “Please permit me a moment to collect my cane and hat.”

An earl who displayed no distress after walloping two thieves into unconsciousness took affront when she wanted to carry her own bag? What an enigma. Quite the most puzzling man she’d ever encountered.

He strode across the cobblestones, his strapping legs eating up the distance with ease. Never breaking his long stride, he neatly stepped over one of the prostate robbers. With unhurried nonchalance, he collected his sword and returned it to its sheath.

She couldn’t help but allow a small curving of her mouth at the clever cane.

Mayhap she ought to consider acquiring a small blade herself. After all, this wasn’t Cambridgeshire. Could she spare the coin, though? No. Not presently. In the future, she’d simply need to be more cautious when venturing out alone.

Once his lordship located his hat several feet away and placed it atop his head, he returned to her. He extended his elbow as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her to put her hand in the bend. “I presume you are staying nearby?” he asked.

“I am. At Taylor’s Lodging and Board. I believe it’s in the next lane over?” Still slightly rattled, she licked her lower lip before hesitantly placing her gloved fingers in the crook of his elbow.

“It is indeed.” He responded with a slight inclination of his square jaw. “Please allow me to escort you. It’s not safe for a young woman to be on the streets alone, most especially at night.” Distinct censor colored his last words.

Even though he knew her not, nor knew what compelled her to tote a valise at nearly eleven of the clock, he disapproved. Probably, he couldn’t conceive of any reason a respectable woman would do so.

Tongue pressed to the back of her teeth, Willow refrained from telling him to mind his own business or reminding him she’d just saved his life.

He saved yours, too, an intrusive little voice whispered. Saved you from more as well.

“I must thank you, Miss Harwood, for rushing to my aid.” His lordship glanced down, one slashing coffee-colored eyebrow cocked.

In befuddlement? Disapproval?

“I couldn’t stand by and watch two against one,” she murmured, very aware of the taut muscles flexing beneath her fingers. “It wasn’t fair.”

“And fairness matters a great deal to you, I take it?” His indiscernible gaze combed over her. He had the most marvelous voice. Smooth and rich, and so very easy to listen to.

“It does.” Though she’d learned early on, life was most unfair. Particularly to women.

The good and kind didn’t always win. The thoughtful and generous frequently didn’t prevail. The polite and intelligent often failed to triumph. And still—more fool she—she remained optimistic that she would succeed in acquiring a position and save enough funds to return to America.

Every now and again, Lord Scarborough searched the length of the street, most likely to make sure the thugs weren’t brazen or stupid enough to attempt another assault.

Slowly shaking his dark head, he said in bemusement, “I know of no other woman who would’ve done something so…”

“Rash? Impulsive? Foolhardy? Reckless?” Willow offered a jaunty smile. She held no false illusions about her character.

Now that the worst was over, and the thugs had been left behind, her pulse had returned to an almost normal rhythm, and her usual cheerful attitude resurfaced.

In the shadowy light, he searched her face, still appearing rather astounded. “Selfless, daring, and brave.”