Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

T HE FOLLOWING DAY , Nathan and Verity each took a section of London and went around to the inns, looking for Malcolm Douglas. It was, Nathan soon decided, a fool's errand. There were far too many places to stay in the city, and the odds of stumbling on the man were exceedingly slender. For all they knew, he was staying under an assumed name.

Searching by himself was tedious. Whatever one might be able to say about Verity, that was not an adjective that would apply to any task done with her. Things were often outlandish, tense, surprising. But never boring. Nathan had the uneasy feeling that when this was all over and he returned to his everyday life, it, too, would feel humdrum.

He spent much of the day thinking about Verity—about the kiss the other night and all the reasons he should not continue down that path. And when he wasn't daydreaming or lecturing himself, his mind went to Verity's past. He hated what had happened to her, and he hated just as much that there was nothing he could do to make it better.

Of course, Verity would dismiss with scorn the idea that Nathan should do anything for her. She was above all self-sufficient. She needed no one. He'd been taken aback by her attitude at first, but he'd never really thought about what in her life had led her to be that way. Verity had had no one to depend on, no relative or friend, not even a clergyman who should have given her aid. She had earned her independence in a hellish crucible.

It was no wonder Verity found Nathan rather useless. She was right in saying he viewed the world from a far different perspective. His father had been a good man, with whatever discipline he doled out tempered by love. George had set the example for honor and loyalty that his son had followed. Whatever money problems the Dunbridges had, there had always been enough to get by, and it had not affected their status in the ton .

Nathan had been an only child, but he had had good friends who had been as much family as friends, and there had been Lord and Lady Drewsbury, adults whom Nathan could always turn to in times of trouble. He had grown up knowing his place in the world was secure. In short, he had never really had to face any adversity. His worst problem had been his years of unrequited love, and his hardest decisions every day were what waistcoat and jacket to wear.

He had to wonder how he would have fared if he had grown up in Verity's situation. What sort of man would I have become?

When he arrived at Verity's that evening to escort her to a musicale at Mrs. Hargrove's house, such thoughts—indeed any thoughts—flew out of his head. She came down the stairs toward him, a vision in her gauzy gown of sea-foam green. The wide neckline was low, and the supposedly concealing lace that bordered it only made the swell of her breasts more seductive. Her hair was pinned up in a style many women wore, but somehow on Verity it was far more entrancing. The knowing little smile that played at her lips added to the rush of hunger that swept through Nathan.

It was clear she knew the effect it would have on him. Which meant she had intended to cause that effect. Which meant...what? Nathan really wished he knew whether the teasing look in her eyes was an invitation or merely Verity having fun at his expense.

The musicale they attended was uninteresting, as such entertainments invariably were. Nathan would have preferred not to have to listen to the five Hargrove daughters' musical talents—or lack thereof—but it had been the only invitation he'd found for this evening. However, Verity enlivened it with whispered comments behind her fan, which Nathan returned in full measure, until the matron behind him rapped him sharply on the shoulder and advised him to be quiet. After that Verity leaned over closer to whisper her remarks to him, and her breath brushed Nathan's ear and neck, sending frissons of sensations through him.

As soon as the hosts' daughters had finished their recital, Nathan and Verity excused themselves from the assembly room.

"Thank God, you had that ‘headache' come on," Nathan laughed. "I'm not sure what I could have said to Violette's parents about her personal interpretation of what can only loosely be described as a melody."

Though there was a heavy mist hanging in the air outside when they emerged, Nathan and Verity decided to walk back to Verity's house. It wasn't far, and it was a pleasant walk. The evening air was soft and warm, and the enveloping fog made it seem as if they were in a place apart from the rest of the world. Even Verity was content to merely stroll along, her hand tucked in his arm.

"I discovered nothing today," she said.

"I'm not sure searching inns is a good use of our time," Nathan agreed. "Maybe we should redirect our efforts."

"You're right," Verity said.

He sucked in a breath of exaggerated surprise. "You agree with me? Has the world tilted on its axis?"

For answer, she jabbed a finger into his ribs. "Hush. I always agree with you when you're right."

"You mean, when I think the same thing you do."

"Exactly." She flashed him a smile. "I have business scheduled tomorrow morning. A client is donating a certain ring to the British Museum, and she wants protection while she carries it. It's some ancient thing her husband dug up on their land, but apparently she's decided that it is bad luck to possess it."

"So she's giving the bad luck to the museum?"

Verity laughed. "Hopefully not."

They crossed a street, and suddenly two figures burst out of the fog. One was tall and thin, the other short and square, and they would have looked comical together if they had not been wearing hats pulled down low and scarves wrapped around the bottom halves of their faces like highwaymen. They took Nathan and Verity so much by surprise that before they could react, the short man knocked Nathan to the pavement, and the tall thin one grabbed Verity from behind, wrapping his arm around her waist and pinning her arms to her sides.

She twisted and kicked back with her heels and Nathan sprang up to go to her aid, but the man whipped out a wicked-looking knife and laid it against Verity's throat. Verity went still, and Nathan halted. The other man moved close to Nathan, taking his arm, but it was clear the threat to Verity was all that was needed to stop him.

The man holding Verity growled, "Giv'm to me."

"What?" Nathan looked at him blankly.

"Bleedin' 'ell." The robber raised his voice. "Are ye a bloomin' idiot? Tell me or I'll cut 'er throat."

A thin red line formed across Verity's throat as the man pressed the knife against her a little. Verity was staring daggers. Nathan was certain she wanted him to refuse, but he decided to take a different tack.

"No, don't!" Nathan's voice rose in agitation, and he waved his hands helplessly. "I'll give you whatever you want! Just don't hurt her! Please, she is so dear to me...such a delicate flower. You must not harm her!" He stepped forward, wringing his hands.

Verity sent him a deadly look, but she began to cry, great tears rolling down her cheeks. "Please, sir, please, don't hurt me. Give him your money, darling." Her words ended in a high wail.

"Shut yer bonebox, woman!" Verity's captor barked.

"Tell me." The man took his hand from Nathan's arm and jabbed him in the ribs. "Go on."

"Yes, of course, of course. Anything. I'll give you anything." Nathan made a show of searching the pockets inside his coat. "Oh, dear, did I not bring it? I couldn't have left my coin purse at home."

At that, Verity began to wail again, her voice so high and fraught with tears she was unintelligible.

"Stop that!" The ruffian's arm loosened as he pulled away to escape her cries. "Where the hell—"

"Aha!" Nathan pulled out a coin purse with a flourish. "Here. Take it all. Take everything!" He started forward, opening the pouch and holding it out in his palm. He stumbled, and the coins tumbled out, rolling about on the ground. Nathan crouched down, picking up coins and moving yet closer. The other thief went down on his knees beside him, also grabbing at the coins.

"What the bleedin'—get up, Shoe, ye daft—" The man gestured at his comrade with his knife.

In that instant, Nathan's fists clenched around the pouch, and he shot up, slamming his hands into the robber's groin as he rose. At the same moment, Verity drove her heel back hard against her captor's shin, and bent forward, twisting, using the man's own weight as momentum to flip him to the ground. More coins rained down on the lane from the man's pockets as he was momentarily in midair.

The second ruffian jumped forward, swinging his fist at Nathan, but he blocked the blow with one arm and drove his other fist into the man's stomach. The man staggered back, and took one glance at Verity charging at him, wielding his companion's knife, and he took to his heels.

Verity and Nathan wheeled around to the other robber, only to see that he had managed to jump up and run, as well. The thick fog had already swallowed them.

"We'll never catch them," Verity said in disgust. "But at least we're not entirely empty-handed..." She bent down and retrieved a small bag that had fallen out of the man's pocket along with his coins. It had Fairborn's Confectionary stamped on the front. Opening it, she took a little sniff, "Fancy a lemon drop?" She popped one in her mouth.

Nathan turned to her, and she looked so incongruous, standing there in her evening dress, holding the large knife, chewing on a lemon drop that he began to laugh. Verity let out a giggle herself and dropped the knife, running to him. And then she was in his arms, and he was kissing her.

Rationality and circumspection fled from his mind as desire flooded through him, mingling with the excitement of the fight and the anger that had surged in him at the sight of the ruffian's knife against Verity's slender white throat. In this fragment of time, all that he knew was Verity and the sweetness of her mouth, the soft curve of her body pressed against his.

"Verity," he murmured, his voice thick with passion as he sank his hand into her hair, sending hairpins flying. The soft curls twined around his fingers, and it seemed as if her very being curled through him, entangling him just as surely.

He kissed her lips, trailing across to nip at her ear, as his hand moved up to cup her breast. Through the soft fabric of her dress, he could feel the warmth of her skin, the tautness of her nipple, and desire shot straight down through him, exploding in his abdomen, turning him hard and eager.

Verity's hands were on him, as well, sliding beneath his jacket and across his chest, and when she pressed up against him, her leg hooking around his, it almost shattered his control. He made a soft noise and began to kiss his way down her neck.

The iron taste of blood touched his tongue, slamming Nathan back into reality, and he jerked away, his arms falling to his sides. "Verity. My God, I forgot. Your throat." He reached out toward the red line across her neck but pulled his hand back quickly. "Are you all right?"

"What?" Verity looked blankly at him, her eyes a bit hazy. "Oh. That." She reached up and touched the cut. "It's nothing. I'm fine. I doubt it will even leave a scar." But she, too, stepped back, giving a little tug to her bodice to straighten it. "Well." She glanced around. "That was foolish. They could have come back." She walked over to pick up the knife again.

"Yes. I beg your pardon," Nathan said, feeling doubly guilty now. "That was very wrong of me."

Verity flashed him a grin. "It wasn't all on you, you know. I think I had something to do with it."

"Yes, well." He had no idea how to answer so he bent down and began to retrieve the coins.

Verity came over to help. When he stuffed a small iron bar into the pouch, as well, she let out an exclamation and reached over to grab his wrist. "Wait. What's this? You were hiding a weight?" she asked in delighted tones.

He nodded a little sheepishly. "Learned it from Sloane, and I found it handy when I was traveling on the Continent. One never knows when one's going to wind up in the wrong place. I'm no good with a knife, and a pistol is a bulky thing to carry around."

"Mmm," she said in a grave tone. "I can see that it would ruin the line of your jacket."

"And formal shoes don't hide a weapon as boots do." He sent her a dancing sideways glance.

Verity dumped her coins into the pouch and stood. "I think we'd better get inside the house before those men come back with companions."

They were only a few houses away from Verity's home, and they were soon inside it. Verity locked the door behind them. Nathan watched, somewhat bemused, as she toured the rest of the downstairs, checking the windows and the basement.

"You think they were in your house?"

"I don't know. Obviously they knew where I lived since they were waiting for us." Verity shrugged. "I always do this anyway."

"Every night?" Nathan asked in astonishment, trailing after her as she went up the stairs and followed the same routine.

"It only takes one mistake," she told him.

He stood outside her bedroom as she checked it. It was impossible not to focus on the bed and equally impossible not to think back to their kiss a few minutes ago. Throughout the day, he had told himself he could not go down that path, and within only hours he had broken his vow. Nathan had always thought himself reasonably careful and in control. He was beginning to wonder whether he really knew himself at all.