Undressed with the Marquess (Lost Lords of London #3) - Christi Caldwell Page 0,55

housekeeper’s voice came plaintively. “I’m so sorrrrry.”

Then one voice of calm broke through the din. “I’m sure this can be explained.” Temperance. Fiery of temper, and yet calm and collected when the situation merited.

His heart knocking uncomfortably, and not from the pace he’d set, Dare increased his stride, following the arguing voices that came from the upstairs living quarters. What in hell?

“Call for the constable,” Lady Kinsley cried, winded, as if she’d been racing across the household.

“I’ll not let you,” Temperance was saying with a calm that belied the commotion. “He is a boy. Let us—”

“He is a thief.”

Dare took the stairs two at a time and went racing onward.

“I’ve got him,” a triumphant servant called from down the hall.

“Let me go.” That frantic plea, cried in Cockney tones, familiar, and not just for the street-roughened quality to it.

Dare came to a stop, the sight halting him in his tracks. Ten servants formed a wall of sorts, and Temperance went charging forward, parting that crowd. What in blazes . . . ? From over the tops of the heads of the men and women and . . . children in his employ, Dare could see they all collectively brandished various household items, holding those makeshift weapons up and pointing them at Temperance.

Temperance pulled a boy from a servant’s grasp, and shoving the child behind her, she wielded her favorite pair of scissors before her. With her cheeks flushed and her eyes burning with fury, she dared anyone to come between her and the boy.

And Dare was briefly frozen by the sight of her. When he was a boy, he’d had a male tutor who’d insisted women were meant to be coddled and protected. Dare’s mother had sacked the stodgy fellow, and before he’d been shown the door, she’d told the man the tale of Boudicca, the fearless warrior who’d gathered up her people and led them on a charge of savage attacks upon anyone in their path who’d had problems with the Roman Empire.

His breath lodged sharply in his chest. Temperance was that warrior woman of old resurrected, gloriously beautiful in her spirit and passion.

And Dare almost felt bad for the footman advancing now.

Almost.

He opened his mouth to order the young man to stand down—

Too late.

Temperance thwacked the servant’s fingers hard with the handle of her scissors.

The young man howled and immediately released the boy.

“Have you no shame?” Glowering at the crowd, Temperance shoved the small street urchin behind her. “He is a boy.”

“He is a thief,” Lady Kinsley shot back, clutching the folds of her night wrapper close. “He was sneaking into my rooms.”

Temperance spoke calmly. “I’m sure it can be explained.” She looked down at the small boy, still concealed by the crowd.

She may have doubts about her place in this world they’d been thrust within, but there could be no doubting she was very much, in every way, the lady of this household.

“It can. To a constable.” Lady Kinsley looked to Spencer. “A constable, this instant.”

Spencer bowed. “As you wish, my—”

“What is the meaning of this?” Dare barked, striding forward. And just like that, the circle parted and silence descended upon the gathering. He stepped into the fray.

“You’ve invited thieves into our midst, brother,” Lady Kinsley said coolly.

Ignoring that attempt to bait him, Dare trained his focus on the small child. His face smudged with dirt, his inky-black hair slicked with grease, he may as well have been any other child in the streets. There was something, however, familiar about the child.

“Wasn’t looking for ’er foine things,” the child protested. He slid closer to Temperance, and she rested a protective hand on the child’s narrow shoulder. “Oi was looking for yar rooms.”

Lady Kinsley folded her arms. “I daresay it hardly matters who this person intended to steal from.”

Temperance frowned at the other woman. “He is a child.”

“He is a thief,” Lady Kinsley said crisply.

“Not a thief,” the boy retorted. “Well, not this time.” He glared at Dare. “These yar rules?” the child demanded. “Turnin’ out people from the Rookeries? Because Oi was told ya’d see me.”

“What?” Dare asked dumbfoundedly. “Of course not. Whatever would make you say or believe that?”

The servants shifted on their feet and made a show of studying the floor.

Dare narrowed his eyes on the group.

Kinsley scoffed. “I take it you know this . . . person.”

“I don’t,” Dare frostily corrected. “But that does not mean he isn’t worthy of a meeting.”

The child wrestled his way from the group. “Well, they wouldn’t let me