Some Enchanted Evening

They were on a pitiful, run-down street, surrounded by waifs who looked as though they had seen better days and women who were working either to mind the children, to wash laundry that seemed to be grimier after a scrub, or sweeping front stoops that would never come clean. There was no possible way Francis would leave Miss Narayan in such a place on her own.

“Come now, Miss Narayan,” he said, putting on a teasing smile that he didn’t feel with the touch of menace in the air. “Confess all. You do not truly have an engagement in this place.”

“I most certainly—”

Before Miss Narayan could finish her lie, one of the waifs—a boy who seemed to be about eight years old, who was undernourished and filthy—darted forward and grabbed at Miss Narayan’s reticule, which had nearly fallen out of the pocket of her coat. The young lad was quick, and before Miss Narayan could do more than let out a cry of alarm, he grasped the reticule tightly and dashed off down the street.

“No!” Miss Narayan shouted, absolute horror in her eyes. “No! Stop at once! Bring that back!”

She leapt after the boy, stumbling a bit before picking up speed.

Francis cursed under his breath and chased after her. “It’s just a reticule, Miss Narayan,” he said. “I will replace it for you.”

“No, no it’s not,” Miss Narayan insisted. She clapped one hand to her head to keep her hat on and lifted her skirts with the other so she could run faster. “There is something of vital important in that purse.”

Francis’s brow went up as he ran. He wondered what Miss Narayan considered vital. Whatever it was, he suddenly considered it his personal mission to catch the young thief and to return the reticule to Miss Narayan.

Doing so proved much more difficult than he would have thought. The boy knew the streets of Poplar much better than Francis did. Francis also needed to keep Miss Narayan with him. To leave her behind would only expose her to more danger, particularly once they followed the boy off the main street and into the filthy alleys that ran between houses.

“Don’t think you can get away,” Francis called after the lad, doing the best he could to dodge barrels of rainwater and laundry hanging down from lines between the houses. “Give up and I will not call the authorities.”

He didn’t actually expect the boy to stop and suddenly turn repentant. He hadn’t expected Miss Narayan to do such a capital job of keeping up with the chase either. Once they got going, she seemed determined to pursue her stolen property with vigor. It was just another thing Francis had to love about the woman.

“He’s heading for that broken window,” Miss Narayan called out as they turned yet another corner.

Francis could see what she was talking about. The boy was clearly racing toward a ground floor window that had been propped open halfway down the alley. If the lad managed to wriggle inside that house, they would not be able to pursue him.

Knowing that, Francis burst forward with extra speed, confident he wouldn’t leave Miss Narayan behind. He lunged toward the boy, grabbing him around the waist and lifting him clear off his feet.

“Drop the reticule, boy,” he growled in the lad’s ear. “Drop it and I will let you go.”

“Get off me! Get off me!” the boy snarled, kicking and thrashing in Francis’s grip.

Francis held him fast as Miss Narayan raced up to them. When the boy saw her, his eyes grew wide for a moment, then he dropped the reticule. Francis considered it a wise move on the lad’s part. Miss Narayan looked as though she could tear a tiger limb from limb with her bare hands.

As he’d promised, Francis let the boy go. The lad wheeled around and kicked him in the shin before dashing for the open window and diving inside the house. Francis cursed at him as he bent to rub his shin, then pick up Miss Narayan’s reticule.

He was surprised at how heavy the small thing was, and as he handed it back to her, he asked, “What in blazes do you have in there?”

Miss Narayan snatched her reticule from him, then opened the strings. With a heavy sigh of relief, she pulled out the most dazzlingly gauche brooch Francis had ever seen. It was garish in the extreme, but it was made entirely of massive rubies and diamonds. It was enough to cause Francis to lose his breath for a moment.

“My God, woman,” he said, closing his hands over hers and forcing her to stuff the brooch back into the reticule and out of sight. “Who in their right mind carries around a piece like that?”

“No one,” Miss Narayan answered warily. “My brother insisted I wear it to your mother’s tea, but I couldn’t countenance it. I put it away as soon as Jeetan’s back was turned.”

Francis grinned at that. Miss Narayan was far wilier than he supposed anyone gave her credit for. He adored her initiative and her independent spirit.

“Keep it out of sight until we are well and truly away from this place,” he said.

He took a step toward her as she turned to head back the way they’d come, resting a hand protectively on the small of her back as he did. Much to his surprise, she allowed him to escort her in such a way as they traced their steps back to where they’d left the carriage, several streets over.

“You do not truly have an engagement here, do you, Miss Narayan,” he said as they turned a corner, walking at a fast clip.

For a moment, Miss Narayan remained stiff and petulant. Francis could feel the war raging within her beneath his hand, and in the aura of battle that radiated from her. He would never tell her, but he admired the way she fought so hard to maintain the upper hand and to follow her own opinions instead of bowing to the whims of society and convention. Why else would she be so resistant to the suit of an earl?

Finally, she let out a breath and shook her head. “No, Lord Cathraiche, I do not, in fact, have an engagement here.”

“Then why go through the trouble of driving into this unfortunate part of London?” Francis asked. “Are you so desperate to get away from me?”

He added perhaps too much hurt feeling to his second question. But if he were honest with himself, it was a blow to his pride to think that someone as wonderful and desirable as Miss Narayan would want nothing to do with him.

“It is not you, Lord Cathraiche,” she admitted quietly as they reached the street where Francis’s carriage was parked. The driver let out a sigh of relief at the sight of them and rushed to hold the door so that Francis and Miss Narayan could climb inside right away.

“Tell me where you live so that I can tell the driver where to take us,” Francis said as he helped Miss Narayan into the carriage.

Miss Narayan let out a sigh and gave him an address near Bedford Square. As soon as the driver nodded his understanding of the location, Francis climbed into the carriage and shut the door. He had never been so relieved to be gone from a place.

“I am still waiting for your answer, Miss Narayan,” he said once they were settled.

Miss Narayan frowned at him. “I’ve given you my address.”

Francis shook his head. “Not about that. I want to know why you find me so repugnant that you must flee to the dark streets of Poplar to escape me.”

Miss Narayan glanced down at her reticule, playing with its strings. “I do not find you repugnant, my lord,” she said in a voice so quiet she nearly mumbled the words.

“I find that hard to believe,” Francis said. He could win this portion of their game by eliciting her pity, he was certain. “It wounds me that you cannot trust me, for whatever reason.”

She glanced up at him with a look of distress. “I’ve no wish to wound you, my lord,” she said.

“Call me Francis.”