Page 2 of The Lady Glass
When he released her, she pressed her hand to her collar, anxious to quiet the reckless pulsing beneath it. Her savior was not so overcome. He dropped to the side of the thief, who cradled his jaw and moaned, and retrieved the coin purse in an easy swipe. The gentleman tossed it to the ground in front of her before ripping the cravat from his neck, using it to tie the thief’s hands together behind his back.
Blinking rapidly, Theresia regained her bearings before dragging her gaze from her mesmerizing hero to the coin purse—a worn purple velvet. She plucked it from the ground and hurriedly turned to the older man. His grateful eyes were framed by thick gray brows with a few remaining threads of black.
“Here,” she said. “This is yours.”
She had not expected a calm, enigmatic smile to cross his weathered cheeks. “Thank you, miss.”
“I did nothing. It is this man over here who deserves your thanks.” She motioned to their liberator, who’d come out of nowhere. She caught a few of the gentleman’s words to the thief—a stern lecture on treating the elderly and women with respect.
The older gentleman held out his finger and motioned her closer. She obeyed, keeping his coin purse extended. He shook his head and waved it away. “You—so young and unprotected yourself—did not run away when you had the chance. Such kindness deserves rewarding. Keep the money. I have plenty.”
“A generous thought, but it isn’t mine to keep.” She’d seen him struggle for the purse, and she would not rob him too.
“Such courage is not seen every day. I insist.”
“Nonsense. Anyone with an ounce of dignity would’ve done the same.”
He raised his thick brows. “Did you not wish for money?” He examined her like he had the power to read her thoughts.
“Me?” She opened her mouth to deny it, but he gave her a knowing look.
Her eyes widened. It wasn’t possible for him to know her plight. She had spent the last year wishing for nothing else but money: money to leave the girls’ seminary, money to take back what she had lost when Papa had died, and money to return to her homeland in Bohemia, where she could play her violin more freely. Money wouldn’t solve all her problems, but it would make a difference. She had saved all she could during her two years teaching at the seminary, but she’d been treated not much better than a servant, and the pay had been meager.
The older gentleman reached out and curled his hand around her own, pressing her fingers tighter over the coin purse. “I didn’t want to lose my purse tothisundeserving man, but I would gladly lose it to reward you for your kindness.”
“But, sir—”
“Not another word, miss.” He removed his hand and patted her shoulder. “Think of me... think of me as your godfather, granting you this one small wish.”
She stared at him, not believing what he was saying.
He smiled knowingly. “Go ahead. Open it.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the younger gentleman had pulled the thief to his feet, but her focus was now on the long coin purse folded in half, the gold fringe on the ends browned with age. She carefully slipped the rings holding it closed in the middle out of the way and emptied the coins into her hands. A pile of guineas tumbled out, but a bulge remained. Sticking two fingers inside, she wriggled out several rolled banknotes. She stared at the amount for several long moments.
So much money.
It would make all the difference in her quest to return to her ancestral home. She closed her eyes and could almost hear the chatter of voices in her native tongue, smell the spices of dishes she’d longed for, and see the familiar faces of a community who had raised her. A prayer of wonder and gratitude silently passed over her lips. When she opened her eyes to say thank you, her newfound godfather was gone. Pivoting on her foot, she turned in every direction, but nowhere along the houses lining the streets half-covered in fog did she see him. Had he gone inside one of them? If so, which one?
She caught sight of her rescuer pushing the thief to walk and already putting distance between them. “Wait!” she cried.
He turned, as if surprised to still see her there. His shirt was open at his neck with his cravat gone to secure the thief, and his wavy dark hair had fallen long over his forehead. How could she have ever mistaken this man for a thief? He was Adonis personified, and his honor preceded him.
“Yes?” he asked while the thief struggled against him.
“We should share this reward.”
“You earned it.” He gave a stern nod, his rugged features stoic despite his rough encounter, before returning to his effort to guide the thief away.
“Thank you,” she breathed. He had complimented her instincts and stolen her breath away with his heroism, and yet he wasleaving her life just as quickly as her mysterious godfather had. Never had she had such an eventful morning. Never had she met two kinder men.
Refilling the coin purse with its contents, she moved in the opposite direction, eager to walk the last few blocks. Soon she would finally be home again, ready as she would ever be to face the stepmother who despised her. Thanks to a generous old man and a handsome stranger, her heavy heart was a little lighter than it had been only moments ago.
Despite her one and twenty years, she felt as if she were glimpsing herself on a page of some fantastical story. The momentary euphoria faded as quickly as it had come, however, and her smile faltered. No one had devoured as many legends and folktales as she had, and they weren’t pretty stories with happy endings. She shook the grim thought from her mind. No matter what was coming, she would face it with the same bravery she’d summoned this morning. The future she’d dreamed of her whole life depended upon it.
Chapter 2
Rolland Reese dismounted from hishorse, feeling the tender skin on his injured shoulder pull and burn from the movement. He hadn’t predicted the thief’s violent temper and utter disregard for a lady. What was it she had struck the thief with anyway? An art case? Some sort of misshapen traveling bag? What mattered was not her weapon of choice but the unconscionable circumstance. If Rolland hadn’t pulled her out of the way in time... he grimaced, the cruelties of war twisting his imagination. He couldn’t stomach the idea of a man abusing a woman, even if it meant reinjuring himself.
