Page 31 of In Bed with the Earl

Verity gasped, and squatted beside him. “Are yourobbinghim?” she squawked, stealing frantic glances about, proving once again that she wasn’t from these parts. All knew that, like the real rodents that roamed these cobblestones, street rats, too, scurried to their respective corners whenever the London skies opened.

“And tell me, is thievery worse than murder, Miss Lovelace?” he drawled.

That managed the seemingly impossible: it silenced the lady.

Malcom resumed his search and then found it: a pulse. Strong and hammering away. “He lives.”

Verity exhaled a small prayer.

She couldn’t remain here.

Hecouldn’t remain here. The foolish minx was free to do whatever she wanted. Only ... it was because Miss Verity Lovelace hadn’t given Malcom the answers he’d sought as to why she’d been in the sewers. That was the only reason he even considered taking her with him.

It was absolutely the sole reason.

And not because she was barefoot and brave and spitting mad like a feisty cat. Only ... Malcom squinted. With her cheeks crimson red, he’d taken that color to be her body’s response to the cold. He’d failed to note her swollen eyes—bloodshot ones. “Were you crying?” he demanded, horror creeping into his question. Tears ... the ultimate sign of weakness in the roughened streets of East London; there was no place for them, and he’d not a single memory of shedding those drops—ever. Not even the rain falling upon her could mitigate the clear drops of her misery.

She bristled. “Absolutely not. I do not c-cry.” Her voice trembled from the force of her shivering.

“You’re a lousy liar,” he said flatly.

All at once, the downpour eased, and his shout was left echoing on the remnants of the previously gusting wind.Oh, bloody hell.He did a sweep of the still-quiet streets. Now that the rain had abated, the filth would creep from the cobbles, and along with them, the constables.

“I’m not crying, but even if I was, I’d certainly be entitled to whatever it is I’m feeling without making apologies to you.”

“Shh,”he warned.

“I will not.”

Of course she wouldn’t. The chit wouldn’t do anything she was supposed to do. As such, he should leave her to her own devices. And yet, with logic screaming at him, he jumped up and took her by the hand. “Come on,” he muttered, tugging her to her feet.

She emitted a squeak better suited to a bird. “What are you doing?” she cried, digging her heels in and forcing him to a stop.

“Would you be quiet?” He gritted his teeth. God, she was more stubborn than the English sun. “Unless you care to wait for a constable to come by and inquire as to what you’re doing with an unconscious, bleeding gent at your feet, I suggest you start walking, mada—” She’d already kicked her stride into a double time.

Fool.“You’re a damned fool,” he said under his breath as the rain picked up, drowning out most of that sound.

Alas, not enough of it. The minx, with her catlike hearing, sputtered, “I beg your pardon. Did you call me a damned fool?”

“I wouldn’t be off the mark. Climbing into sewers you have no place in, wandering St. Giles alone,” he muttered as they continued their flight. “You may as well hang a sign around your neck and invite trouble to join you for tea and biscuits.”

That effectively silenced the chit.

For a moment.

“Well, I didn’t originally begin here,” she needlessly reminded him as they turned the corner, at last putting some safer distance between her and the man she’d felled. “You were the one who brought me here. And left me.”

Oh, hell, he’d had enough of her ramblings. Malcom stopped abruptly, and with a gasp, Verity Lovelace crashed against his side. He swept his soaking cap off and bowed his head. “I’m sorry; did you expect an escort home?”

“Well, not an escort, per se,” she said, giving her skirts a shake. “But ...”

And for the first time in more years than he could remember ... nay, mayhap for the first time in forever, he laughed, the sound rusty and hoarse, and more growl-like than amusement filled.

Verity pursed those temptingly full lips. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, not missing a beat. “Now, come on.” Malcom hurried on.

Several moments passed before he registered his solitary flight. Cursing, he spun back.

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