As Luck Would Have It (3 page)

“This is so much better,” Sophie sighed. “How fortunate we were able to secure a hack so quickly. It makes up, I suppose, for Lord Loudor’s absence.”

Her chaperone frowned disapprovingly. Tall, rail thin, and with striking angular features, Mrs. Summers had all the appearances of a hawk, a look she occasionally enhanced by affecting a matching demeanor. Sophie knew her too long and too well, however, to be fooled. Mrs. Summers’s stern countenance hid an open mind and a generous heart.

Perfectly comfortable with her chaperone’s censure, Sophie returned the scowl with a smile. “Roomy,” she commented, “and decidedly well padded.”

The brown leather on the benches extended up all four walls and even onto the ceiling. Glancing down, she noticed even the floor held a thin layer of cushion.

“How very odd.”

The carriage started with a jerk, and soon she was too entranced by the passing scenery to dwell on the unusual interior of her transportation. Street after street rolled by. London was loud, dirty, overcrowded, and positively wonderful.

She was vaguely aware of Mrs. Summers speaking, but it was several minutes before she could pull her attention from the window long enough to focus on what was being said.

“…We’ve left the waterfront district, which, young lady, you shall not under any circumstances venture into again. In
a moment, if you look out to your left, we’ll pass…Well, for…Why on earth are we turning here?”

Mr. Wang craned his neck slightly to peer out the window. “Where, exactly, is ‘here’?”

“I have no idea,” Mrs. Summers stated, sounding more surprised than alarmed. “Our driver should have continued straight for several more blocks. What ever is our man thinking taking such a shortcut through such a squalid section of town?”

Mr. Wang raised his walking stick in preparation of pounding on the roof. “Shall I speak with him?”

“And have him stop in this area? Heavens no. We’ll take it up with him when we arrive.” Mrs. Summers turned again to the window and wrinkled her long nose. “You are not allowed here either, Sophie.”

Sophie didn’t think she’d have any problem obeying that command. The neighborhood reminded her of some of the poorer sections of Peking. Too many dilapidated buildings likely crammed with too many hungry people. She felt helpless in places like these, and a little ashamed. She watched as they passed a small chapel she might have described as having seen better days, if she’d thought there was any chance at all that the church had, in fact, ever seen a good day. She rather doubted it, and settled for describing it as “glum” instead. Perhaps she could take some of the money set aside for her purchases and make a donation.

The loud report of snapping wood followed by the unpleasant sensation of the carriage tilting precariously to one side immediately erased Sophie’s altruistic thoughts. She watched in horror as an unlit iron lantern slid dangerously close to the edge of the shelf over Mrs. Summers’s head.

The last thing Sophie remembered was bounding off the seat with her arms stretched outward in a grasping motion.

The next thing she heard was a man’s voice telling her to open her eyes. Low, soft, and just a little bit gravelly, it washed over her like a soothing lullaby.

Maybe she’d sleep a little while longer.

The soothing voice was promptly replaced by an annoying one. Mrs. Summers was demanding she wake up immediately. And she was doing it in
that
tone. That horrible, insistent, I-am-quite-out-of-patience-with-you tone every child despises.

And Sophie was going back to sleep. Absolutely.

A hand prodded the side of her head.

“Ouch!”

Sophie’s eyes flew open, and she was immediately rewarded for the effort with Mr. Wang’s soft chuckle, a painful eyeful of light, and the realization that what ever mattress she was currently lying on was astoundingly hard. Groaning, she squeezed her eyelids shut again.

“She’ll be fine,” Mr. Wang announced.

Mrs. Summers clucked her tongue (a noise Sophie found excruciating in her current state) and said, “Two square inches of unpadded space in the whole carriage and your head finds it, of course.”

The carriage. London! She tried squinting against the sun, which was peeking through the clouds now, when a large figure crouched in front of her and blocked out the light.

“Better?”

“Hmm, thank you.” It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust, and when they did she was forced to blink several times in disbelief.

Here was the man with the soothing voice, and good heavens but he was handsome. Without a doubt, the most attractive Englishman she had ever seen. To be fair, she really hadn’t seen very many Englishmen in her travels, but she had certainly run across enough to know that this one was not typical. Groggily, she wondered if perhaps she had hit her head harder than she realized and when her eyes regained their focus she would find he had enormous teeth and several chins.

If that were the case, she hoped she wouldn’t recover too quickly. He was quite pleasant to look at for the moment, with the chiseled features one rarely found outside of Greek
sculpture, deep-set eyes that looked to be possibly green, full lips, and a strong jaw. His aristocratic nose certainly could have been lopped off some poor unsuspecting statue.

Michelangelo’s
David
, that’s what he reminded her of.

Only taller. Much taller. And with better hair. She watched as one coffee-colored lock fell across his brow.
Lovely
. She could just stare at him all day.

“Miss? Miss….”

“Hmm…Everton.”

“You can let go of the lantern now, Miss Everton.”

Ignoring the pain to her head, she craned her neck up slightly to look at herself. She was lying flat on her back in the middle of the road and held the lantern in a death grip on her stomach. If it had been a bunch of lilies, she might have been mistaken for a corpse.

“I caught it,” she said stupidly before laying her head back down.

“So you did,” replied Mr. Wang. She turned her gaze to find him standing next to Mrs. Summers. “You were quicker than that tiger, I’d say.”

“Let go now, Miss Everton,” said the stranger.

“Sorry?”

“The lantern. Let go of the lantern now.”

She tried, she really did, but her fingers were cramped in place. “I can’t seem to…”

Large warm hands covered her own and gently pried her stiff fingers from the lantern. She flexed them experimentally and felt the first painful tingling of returning feeling.

“What ever…?”

“We lost a wheel,” Mrs. Summers explained.

Looking down past her toes, Sophie saw the hack resting awkwardly on three wheels against the road. The horses had been unhitched and tied with two saddled mounts she didn’t recognize.

“Yes, well…that can happen.”

“You’re fortunate the whole carriage didn’t turn over.”

Sophie couldn’t help noticing the stranger sounded a touch angry. If she were feeling more confident in her ability to hold a coherent conversation, she might have asked him why.

“Driver’s gone! Another hack’s coming ’round.”

She stared bewildered as yet another strange man walked forward and knelt beside her. He too appeared uncommonly tall and handsome (although not, in her opinion, quite as handsome as the first) but with slightly fairer features. “It’s fortunate Alex and I decided on this shortcut. How are you feeling, Miss…?”

“Everton,” Mrs. Summers supplied.

Then, to Sophie’s complete astonishment, her governess launched into a round of formal introductions and general pleasantries, for all the world as if their little group were meeting for the first time at a lovely afternoon picnic.

And didn’t little Sophie just look
charming
spread out on the cobblestone blanket?

Good Lord.

“I’m better, much better,” she mumbled, sounding anything but better. “I’d like to sit up now.”

She pushed herself up with her elbows before anyone could stop her. The quick movement was a mistake. She knew it would be. Really, anyone would think this was the first time she had been knocked unconscious.

Her head swam, her vision blurred, her stomach lurched, and then finally, and quite suddenly, she went back to sleep.

Alex’s first thought upon pulling the insensible Miss Everton from the disabled carriage had been—

Dear God
. Something had most certainly been lost in translation.

His second thought had been that Miss Everton’s unconsciousness was a disturbing but undeniably convenient opportunity to study her appearance in detail.

She was beautiful.

In the manner of Greek goddesses and Rubens portraits, she was beautiful. A heart-shaped face, full lips that seemed to
curve up naturally at the corners, an endearing sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her pert little nose, all framed by a cloud of thick hair the color of sable.

Alex’s next thought had been to wonder about the color of her eyes. Would they be a golden brown or darker like her hair?

When her lids finally fluttered open Alex was hard-pressed not to gape like a green boy.

They were blue. A crisp, dark blue that practically crackled. He had never in his life seen eyes that color. Hard upon that realization came the less rational notion that he was going to tear William limb from limb.

And when she passed out the second time, Alex decided he would do it slowly. At the very least, William’s trick hack would be scrap by morning.

Picking up Miss Everton carefully, he carried her to the newly arrived hack. “Whit, you and Mr. Wang see to our mounts. I’ll assist Mrs. Summers and Miss Everton home.”

Alex ignored Whit’s knowing grin and wink. Likewise, he pretended not to hear his friend’s quiet comment about having all the fun, deciding it would be better to concentrate instead on getting both himself and Miss Everton inside the carriage without mishap—no easy feat since he refused to set her down first.

Eventually, he managed to settle himself in a seat with her in his lap. He really ought to put her on the bench beside him. He really should. It wasn’t at all proper to be holding her as he was, but for some inexplicable reason he couldn’t bring himself to perform the task.

She was so very small, not much over five feet, he guessed, and the side of her forehead was beginning to show signs of swelling. She’d have a nasty bruise in a few more hours, and if it wasn’t directly his fault, he was, at the very least, partially to blame for her injury.

Reluctantly, he pulled his eyes away from the woman in his arms to peer at the older woman sitting across from him. He
was surprised and, for some unaccountable reason, a little annoyed that Mrs. Summers had not insisted he set her charge down at once. Wasn’t she responsible for the girl?

She didn’t appear particularly concerned. In fact, she was eyeing him steadily with unabashed interest in a way that immediately put him on edge. He could practically hear the wheels turning in her head.

“Will she be all right?” he asked to distract her from her current train of thoughts.

Mrs. Summers blinked once before answering. “Oh, she’ll recover. The injury is not serious, leastwise not for her.”

Alex would have liked to ask what she meant, but the carriage was coming to a stop in front of a small but stylish town house.

“Ah, we were closer than I realized,” Mrs. Summers remarked. “If you will be so kind as to set Sophie on the cushions now, I’m sure one of Lord Loudor’s men can see to her.”

Apparently, by this particular chaperone’s standards at any rate, what was acceptable behavior in a public hackney was not permissible in the general public.

Alex relinquished his hold on the girl with some reluctance. He assisted Mrs. Summers down and watched her follow Mr. Wang into the house before turning a skeptical eye on the servants as they came forward. There were several able-bodied men in the group; one of them was actually quite massive. But then, large men could be clumsy, or worse, stupid.

He looked back at the unconscious Miss Everton. Maybe he should just…

“It’s no good, Alex.”

Whit walked the few remaining steps from the stables to lean against the carriage and offered Alex the lopsided grin that had made him the darling of the
ton
and the bane of Alex’s existence.

“You can’t very well endear yourself to Loudor by entangling his cousin in a scandal her first day in London, now can you?”

Alex nearly groaned. Whit was right, of course; he was behaving like an idiot. What the devil was wrong with him? He shot his friend a nasty scowl for the sake of principle— no good ever came from telling Whit he was right about something—and gave an order to one of the footmen to care for Miss Everton.

Three

A
thin older man with a sour expression, which Alex guessed had more to do with the man’s nature than the day’s unfortunate events, ushered Alex and Whit into the front parlor and furnished them with drinks.

“His Lordship left several hours ago to meet Miss Everton and her party at the docks. Four men have been dispatched to ascertain his whereabouts. I shall inform him of your presence upon his arrival.” With that, the butler excused himself and closed the parlor doors behind him.

“Friendly, isn’t he?” Alex remarked, taking a drink of his brandy and looking over their surroundings. With dark ugly colors, the scent of old cigars, and an astounding amount of leather, the room positively screamed of bachelorhood. More, it screamed of a bachelor with exceedingly poor taste.

Whit was likewise eyeing the decor. “Good Lord, if this is the front parlor, what do you suppose the study looks like?”

“With any luck, we’ll find out.”

“At the moment, I’m a little tempted to botch the mission on purpose. This room is dreadful.”

“It smells like a third-rate club,” Alex added.

“By God, you’re right. I was wondering why the stench seemed familiar. Reminds me of our salad days.” Whit thought
about this for a moment. “Believe I’ll open a window.” He set down his drink and held back the thick gray drapes while eyeing the window frame dubiously. “Shouldn’t there be some sort of hook or tieback for these things?”