B00Q5W7IXE (R) (8 page)

Hands? It was human?

“What the devil is that?” Dane asked.

“It’s a who, and her name is Elizabeth,” Brook told him, teeth clenched with the effort it took to secure the knot in the rope binding its—her—arms.

“That is a woman?” A woman had just bitten him? Damnation, but his leg hurt like hell. He peered closer and noted the dirty dress she wore. His gaze traveled upward...yes, she was definitely a woman.

“That,” Brook said, falling back into the squabs in exhaustion, “is Lady Elizabeth Grafton.”

Dane had always thought that when the day came and his brother made a mistake—a monumental mistake, the sort Dane was exceedingly careful never to make—he would be glad. But damn if his leg did not hurt him, and he was too worried for his brother’s sanity—and truth be told, his own safety—to be able to say,
I told you so
.

Dane glanced at the woman again. He didn’t know who she was, but she was not the daughter of the Marquess of Lyndon. She was some sort of street rat. The smell of her alone was enough to prove bathing was not a luxury she frequently, if ever, enjoyed. And her language. No lady knew words like those she’d spewed at Brook. Dane didn’t even know some of the curses. And the dirt. He’d have his valet clean these breeches immediately.

“Are you feeling well?” Dane asked. “Have you hit your head recently?”

Brook glared at him. “It’s her.”

But before Dane could dispute him, the creature—female, if Brook insisted—must have caught her breath, because she began thrashing around again. She couldn’t see with the hood over her eyes, and her claws were restrained, but she could still kick. Dane moved from one side of the seat to the other to avoid her quick feet. She would make a fearsome pugilist if her fists were as fast as her feet.

“I can’t take her to Lord Lyndon like this,” Brook said.

Dane frowned. He didn’t like the implications of that statement. When Brook didn’t go on, he suggested, “You could toss her back out on the street.” He looked out the window and saw they were in Mayfair now. Perhaps they should not unleash such a creature on Mayfair. They might keep driving and leave her somewhere safer. Somewhere like Scotland. Or the Americas.

“I’m not tossing her back on the street.”

The woman quieted, as though listening for her fate.

“We could put her on a ship. Australia might be far enough away.”

“No!” the wench cried and began thrashing again. Dane held out a hand to protect himself.

Brook rolled his eyes. “Dane.”

Dane spread his hands. “You said yourself she was a thief. That’s the least of the punishments she might receive.”

“True, but I was thinking we might reform her.”

Dane narrowed his eyes, and the girl spoke up for the first time. “I don’t want no reforming.” Her voice was muffled beneath the hood.

Dane pointed an accusatory finger at the woman. “You heard her. She doesn’t
want no reforming
.”

“Nevertheless, we take her home—”

“Home!”

“And we clean her up and make her presentable before we give her to Lord and Lady Lyndon.”

“No!” This from the creature.

This time Dane didn’t avoid her kicks, and his knee suffered the consequences. “Damn it!” These breeches would be past saving.

“Let me go,” she screamed, kicking again. “You bloody cockchafer! Let me out, you bastard boat-licker!” She went on, and Dane glanced at his brother incredulously. He’d never heard a woman speak thus.

“I feel as though I should take notes,” he said over the noise. “I might impress the fellows at Gentleman Jackson’s.”

“You might be thrown out,” Brook observed. “In any case, I’m taking her to Derring House.”

Now Dane was out of patience. “No, you are not. Susanna is there, and mother. We cannot inflict this”—he gestured to her contemptuously—“upon them.”

“Nonsense,” Brook said, folding his arms across his chest in a gesture Dane knew meant he had made up his mind. “Unlike you, they love a good charitable cause. And it wouldn’t kill you to smudge those lily-white hands once in a while.”

Dane looked at his spotless gloves. It might not kill him, but it would certainly pain him.

More from Shana Galen

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Earls Just Want to Have Fun
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Check out 
 
Love and Let Spy
, in which Blue also makes an appearance, and meet Bonde, Jane Bonde.

Want more spies under your tree this Christmas?
 Check out Shana’s novella, 
The Spy Beneath the Mistletoe
 in the 
Christmas in the Duke’s Arms
 anthology, also featuring novellas from Grace Burrowes, Carolyn Jewel, and Miranda Neville.