An Unexpected Earl (Lords of the Armory #2) - Anna Harrington Page 0,6
wheel, careening nearly uncontrollably behind its racing team. The rig hit a rise in the pavement and jumped into the air, sending the team darting to the left—right toward the woman, who froze in fear.
“Look out!” Pearce shouted and sprinted across the street.
He grabbed her around the waist and hurled her forward with him. The wheel of the phaeton spun past so close that it shaved against his calf.
Momentum propelled them forward. Just before they crashed into the building on the other side of the street, Pearce turned so that his shoulder slammed into the stone wall instead of her soft body, so that his arms protected her from the blow.
The jolt came so hard that it ripped the air from his lungs. Yet he held onto her, even though his grasp had loosened, even though she’d fallen against him, momentarily stunned and breathless. Her hair had escaped its ribbon and now spilled freely around her shoulders. The mask slipped, revealing her face.
Recognition slammed into him as hard as the stone wall.
“Amelia?” he whispered hoarsely. Good God…he was staring at a dream.
She pushed herself out of his arms and ran.
Two
“Hill Street, Berkeley Square,” Amelia Howard called out frantically to the jarvey of the waiting hackney. She allowed herself only a fleeting glance over her shoulder to make certain that Pearce hadn’t followed her before ducking into the carriage. “Hurry!”
She closed the door. As the carriage jerked into motion, she rested her head back against the cracked leather squabs and shut her eyes.
Of all the men to run into this evening, and dressed like this, no less—what a nightmare! Even now, her heart pounded a fierce tattoo because he’d seen her face, because he remembered her…
But then, why wouldn’t he? After all, she’d never forgotten him.
“What happened?” Her maid’s concerned voice reached out to her in the darkness. “What’s wrong?”
Unable just yet to squelch the shock of seeing Pearce again and open her eyes, Amelia simply shook her head.
“Oh, I knew coming here was a bad idea!”
Her maid, Maggie, who was almost ten years older than Amelia, had refused to let her venture out alone tonight and insisted on waiting in the carriage. Now guilt prickled in Amelia’s belly that she’d upset the woman.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Amelia assured her, finally finding her voice. Except that I saw a ghost…
“You spoke to him, then?”
She meant Sir Charles Varnham. Amelia’s purpose for going to tonight’s masquerade. “No.”
Her shoulders sagged at her dashed plans. She’d borrowed the red dress and mask so she could speak to Charles Varnham without any servants or society gossips—and especially her brother—knowing. After all, there was no proper way for an unmarried lady to talk privately to a bachelor gentleman of Sir Charles’s rank and the leading member of the House of Commons’s Committee of Privileges, no less. No way to send him a message without risking that servants or his secretary would read it. And no way to keep Frederick from finding out. So when Freddie had mentioned that Sir Charles would be at the masquerade, Amelia had seized the night as the only opportunity she would have to approach him.
But it had turned into a complete disaster.
“I couldn’t find him in the crush,” she admitted in defeat.
Her maid unleashed a string of curses beneath her breath. “Then we’re back to where we began.”
“Yes.” With no more information than the little she already knew. That her brother, the Honorable Frederick Howard, Member of Parliament for Minehead, was being blackmailed.
By whom, over what, why—she had no idea. All she had was a note of extortion that mentioned Sir Charles Varnham’s name and a brother she couldn’t confront about it, who was behaving even more erratically than usual. More suspiciously. More…desperately.
She’d discovered it all by accident. A crumpled note had been forgotten in the pocket of her brother’s jacket, one he’d been so foxed while wearing that he’d gotten sick on himself—or one of his cronies had—leaving the garment too soiled ever to be worn again. Maggie had given it a last once-over before tossing it onto the pile for the rag-and-bone man, found the note, given it to Amelia…
She had no idea what her brother had done—the unsigned note wasn’t specific. But if he didn’t continue to cooperate, then he would be exposed… You can be assured that I will reveal everything you have done, and the consequences will be far worse for you than if Charles Varnham learns of your illegal activities. Please do not force me to destroy