Tall, Duke, and Dangerous (Hazards of Dukes #2) - Megan Frampton Page 0,23

head into the shop. “I have a cab, my lady.”

“Yes, thank you, but don’t you want a deposit?”

He offered a reassuring gesture. “That is fine, we don’t—”

“A deposit would be wonderful,” Mrs. Lee interrupted.

Right. Mrs. Lee did the books, so she would know.

Ana Maria tugged off her gloves and reached into her reticule for the notes she’d tucked in there. Thaddeus was more than generous with her allowance, which meant she had a sizable amount to put down. She knew, from having been sent to merchants when she was working, that the nobility usually decided to pay tomorrow, or the next day, when given a chance. And if they weren’t given that chance, they’d take it. So she knew full well the delicate balance Mrs. Lee was probably navigating.

“Here,” she said, placing all but one of the notes on the counter. “You can tote that up, and send me a note as to what I owe. I am—”

“Of course we remember you, my lady. Lady Ana Maria Dutton living with the Duke of Hasford in Hanover Square.”

“Yes.”

Mr. Lee popped his head back out, then ducked back inside with a frown. “The cab was purloined by somebody else.”

“It’s fine,” Ana Maria said. “It will do me good to walk, it’s not that far.”

“But—”

“I know it’s not done.” She repressed her irritation. The Lees didn’t know she hadn’t been treated as a lady six months ago. “But I have been traveling around London on my own for some time now, and I would prefer not to be cooped up in a cab.”

Mr. and Mrs. Lee’s faces were matching expressions of horror, and Ana Maria tried not to laugh.

“I’ll send the carriage tomorrow for the rest, remember. And please do tell me how much I owe. Thank you so much.” She kept speaking until she was at the front door, then slipped out before they could argue some more.

“Drat,” Ana Maria muttered to herself. “I am thoroughly and entirely lost.”

She’d begun the walk home half an hour ago in such joyful spirits; she had found fabrics that made her heart sing, and she felt as though she was actually being useful, even if it was only to help her friend decorate the way she wanted to.

But she’d been lost in her thoughts, pondering if there was something more she could do, something more official, and she must’ve missed a turn, and now she was in a less reputable part of town and it was starting to get dark.

And she didn’t have a poker on her. Perhaps she should not have been so quick to insist on going home alone.

Though she did have her new bolt of fabric—perhaps if someone accosted her, she could point out how remarkable the shifting colors were.

Or thump them on the head. With soft fabric.

Not the best plan.

She glanced around, trying not to look as though she were lost. She knew a well-dressed lady looking confused in a rougher part of town was a sure invitation to trouble.

She heard the distinctive squawk of seagulls, and knew she must be close to the docks. Where she definitely did not want to be. Drat.

When she’d been a maid of all work, she’d gone into far worse neighborhoods than this, but she’d been wearing the clothing the duchess allowed her, which were drab rags, and had a knife strapped to her shin. She’d never had occasion to use it, but she suspected it gave her an air of confidence to act as a deterrent.

“Miss?”

She turned at the sound of the man’s voice, relieved to see he had a kind smile. Not that a kind smile was an indication of being a reasonable person, but it was a promising beginning.

“Yes?”

“I think you might need assistance.” He gestured across the street, a sign proclaiming it was the King’s Arms. “Perhaps we might go in and have a pint?”

Because assistance equaled an ale. Of course it did. Thank goodness she wasn’t a naive young lady, though even naive young ladies would have to look askance at his kind of help.

“No, thank you,” she said, beginning to step away.

He grabbed her arm, swinging her back around to face him. “But you’re clearly lost, and if it’s not me, it’ll be somebody worse.”

Was it wrong she wished this man had given Lord Brunley lessons on how to propose? “Somebody worse” was not precisely a good recommendation of character.

“I’ll take that chance,” she replied, twisting out of his grip. She slid the bolt of fabric out from under