The Formidable Earl (Diamonds in the Rough #6) - Sophie Barnes Page 0,6

My name and location are in the paper. I simply don’t trust him. Earl or not.”

“All right.” Philipa stood. “I’ll speak with him myself. In the meantime, you will grab whatever you need and head out the back. Go to Number Two Soho Square. That’s where Guthrie lives. And, Ida?”

“Yes?”

“Let me know when you’re safe.”

“Of course.” Ida gave her aunt a swift hug and then proceeded to do as instructed. She grabbed a satchel from under her bed, shoved some clothes and other personal items into it, and exited her room.

“It is imperative that I speak with her,” a man’s voice insisted. “Just… Oh, for heaven’s sake!”

“My lord,” Philipa could be heard saying, “you cannot go up there. My goodness, Vince. Do something.”

Ida didn’t hesitate one more second. With her satchel flung over her shoulder, she ran.

The same giant Simon had come across last night – Vince, he supposed – grabbed Simon by the front of his jacket, and hoisted him up until he was teetering on his toes.

“I just want to speak with Miss Strong,” Simon gasped. “Why the bloody hell can’t you grasp that?”

“My lord,” the woman who’d introduced herself as Philipa Harding, Amourette’s proprietress, said with an impatient roll of her eyes, “might I suggest you calm down?”

“It would help if this person would let me go.”

Ms. Harding sighed and tilted her head in a manner that instantly got Vince to loosen his hold. Simon rocked back on his heels for a moment before regaining his balance. He gave Vince a glare, then addressed Ms. Harding. “I was perfectly calm until I was told no one here knows of anyone named Miss Strong. It has even been suggested that I imagined her while in a drunken stupor.”

“Such things have been known to happen,” Ms. Harding murmured.

“Right.” Simon raked his fingers through his hair and glanced around. “I just wanted to ask her about her father. And to find out why she’s here of all places when I’ve thought her dead for the last four years.”

Ms. Harding gave him a serious stare. “Then I shall wish you better luck elsewhere, my lord, for I do not know the woman you’re seeking.”

“But—”

“Good day, Lord Fielding.”

Simon clamped his mouth shut and clenched his fists. He was being dismissed – turned away – lied to.

Furious, he stormed from the building and searched the street for the hackney he’d hired. He hadn’t relished having his own – the one with the Fielding crest on each side – sitting outside a St. Giles brothel in broad daylight. With a quick glance in both directions, he promptly cursed. Of course the damn thing had driven off. Why wouldn’t it have? Considering the luck he was having it would probably start raining too at any moment.

Christ!

There was nothing for it but to start walking. Lingering in this unsavory neighborhood certainly wouldn’t help. Turning, he avoided making eye contact with a scruffy man who’d just dragged his weight onto the opposite street corner using his crutches. Two other men with snarly expressions started in Simon’s direction. Eyes trained straight ahead, Simon skirted Amourette’s and began hurrying back toward Oxford Street in the hope of escaping what could potentially turn into a nasty fight if they tried to rob him.

He rounded a corner, darted down an empty alley, and arrived in a wider street where he found two women sitting outside on a doorstep, each with an infant in her arms. Bleakness was etched upon their faces, the rags they wore so filthy he felt his insides twist in response. Without thinking, he retrieved a couple of coins, one for each, and handed them over.

“Thank ye, sir,” one of the women muttered.

Simon nodded and started walking away when he glimpsed a female figure up ahead, hurrying along in the same direction he’d been heading. His pulse leapt in recognition. The edge of his mouth drew upward. He quickened his pace, determined to catch Miss Strong, when he realized he wasn’t the only one following her. A man wearing an oversized coat and with a brown cap pulled down over his brow appeared to be dogging her movements.

Unease pricked the back of Simon’s neck, increasing tenfold when she disappeared down a side street and the man pulled a knife from his pocket while hurrying after her. Simon started to run while terror ripped through him. He’d failed her father once. He would not fail her as well.

A scream pierced the air, turning the blood in his veins to