Defying the Earl Read Online Free PDF Page B

trouble she’d caused? Her eyes slanted over his shoulder to the haberdashery he’d most likely exited. It was the most expensive shop on Oxford Street. No wonder he appeared so angered. She ruined his boots, dirtied his suit, and who knew what else? He possessed very fine taste and she’d virtually bathed him in roadway filth. How would she compensate for her foolish mistake? She already needed new slippers and had yet to sew her matchmaker gown. Tears pricked at her lids but with resolute determination, she refused to let them fall, and curled her fists at her sides in fortification.
    Seemingly mollified by her silence, the gentleman climbed from the ruined roadway and extended his gloved hand. With reluctance she clasped his palm, her fingers lost in his large grasp, and allowed him to guide her away from the pedestrian bustle who continued their daily business while her world grew smaller and smaller, one shilling at a time.

Chapter Four
    He would throttle her as soon as he stopped looking at her, this unexpected interruption in way of delightful creature. Good God, she was lovely. Beautiful, despite mud splashed across her cheek and the glistening threat of tears in her eyes. He took a deep breath to diffuse his anger.
    “You are troublesome.” It was the best he could manage under the circumstances, although a solemn intensity laced his tone.
    “I certainly didn’t mean to be, although it’s rude of you to point it out as true.” Her previous intimidation appeared to have vanished, her tone gaining strength and prickliness as each word passed over her pretty blush lips.
    Intent on finding his handkerchief, he reached into his breast pocket, realizing too late he had nothing to offer the lady; the ill-fitting coat not his. Jasper had gained it in a game of dice, literally winning the shirt
and waistcoat
off his opponent’s back. It had come in handy earlier, but served little purpose now.
    “Are you all right?” Somehow the entire situation had gotten out of hand.
    Her gaze fell past her serviceable gown to the tips of her muddy slippers and for an awkward moment she revealed not a hint of her thoughts.
    “I will be, yes.” Her whisper held a sharp edge although a frown puckered her brow.
    He removed his left glove and slanted her chin upward with the tip of one finger. Her eyes remained lowered, the fall of her mahogany lashes against her pink cheeks enough to make his chest ache for no reason he could label. He wiped away the mud on the slope of her chin, noting the delicate angle of her heart-shaped face, then with the pad of his thumb moved to do the same at the corner of her lips. Her eyes shot to his, a question hidden in their sable-brown depths. It stalled his progress to a slow, careful stroke. His breathing stopped altogether.
    She jumped backward as if stung by a bee, neatly jarring into a random passerby before recovering her balance and gaining another step. She allowed the crowd to swallow her in their mass, lost to his sight before he could ask her name, or note the color of her hair beneath her tidy bonnet. Valerian turned with a disparaging mutter and one final expletive before pushing further down Oxford Street.
    As he replaced his soiled glove, he considered the incident, thankful it had taken place after meeting Rigby and conducting his business at the pawn shop, the latter settling a heavy burden on his heart. Perhaps that anger, no, better to label it resentment, had permeated his sharp retort to the lady lost in the wheel ruts. In retrospect, the whole incident was not well done of him, but that bespoke of the desperation eating at his soul; the need to solve his financial woes.
    How did one go about
matchbreaking
anyway? There were no rules of which he was aware, although Caroline taught him the darker side of affection. He scoffed, the reasons too plenty. Faced with Jasper’s ingenious scheme, the conclusive realization indicated Valerian would need a new wardrobe. One couldn’t