Lady Olivia And The Infamous Rake. Janice Preston

the box, but not close enough to be visible to the occupants, and she was surrounded by several young men. One of them had his arm around her shoulders and was trying to pull down her hood, but she was fighting him off—verbally as well as physically, from what Hugo could make out. The lads surrounding Olivia were not gentlemen—probably clerks or some such, out for a good time—which was just as well because by the time Hugo reached them, Olivia’s hood was down, her hair was awry and her face unmasked. Her eyes were huge in her pale face, but they nevertheless fired ice shards at her tormentors as she berated them. As he came within hearing distance, Hugo bit back a grin to hear her spitting a variety of insults.

      ‘You vile worms! Churls! Scabs! Sodden-witted knaves! Leave me alone, or I’ll kick you so hard you won’t remember your own name for a month!’

      The surrounding youths were laughing at her...mocking...and Hugo could see the effort it cost her to hold tears at bay.

      He stepped into the fray.

       Chapter Three

      ‘Enough!’ He faced the lad who was taunting Olivia by waving her mask above his head, its ribbons dangling and dancing. He held out one hand. ‘I’ll take that.’

      The lad exchanged looks with his friends. ‘And who might you be? The little tart gave it me as a tro—Argh...’

      Hugo’s fingers tightened around the youth’s throat, causing his eyes to bulge.

      ‘I said... I. Will. Take. That.’

      A ragged but muted cheer sounded from some of the onlookers as Hugo continued to hold the youth high, by the neck, allowing just the tips of his toes to scrape the ground. It took no time for the lad to capitulate. He thrust the mask into Hugo’s face. Hugo took it, releasing him, and, as her tormentor slumped to the ground, Hugo faced Olivia. She was shaking, her eyes suspiciously luminous, but she held herself straight, her nose in the air, as she accepted the mask, tied it back in place and pulled her hood over her head.

      ‘Thank you.’ She began to walk away.

      For God’s sake! Where does she think she is going?

      With two strides he caught up with her and grabbed her by the arm, spinning her around to face him. She wrenched her arm free.

      ‘Leave me alone.’

      ‘How do you mean to get home?’

      ‘I shall find my brother.’

      ‘And if you don’t? And if you get accosted again? The next men might not be inclined to leave it at teasing.’

      She elevated her nose. Again. Really, she was beyond hoity. He was almost inclined to leave her to it, if she was this stubborn.

      Almost.

      ‘I shall escort you home.’

      She was slowly but surely backing away from him. With a growl that originated deep, deep inside him, Hugo followed her and grabbed her arm again.

      ‘Let go of me.’

      Those amazing eyes of hers shot icy slivers at him. What would they look like, fired with passion rather than fury? Would they—? He batted those errant thoughts aside. She was eighteen years old...had only just made her debut in society.

      ‘With what will you pay a jarvey to drive you home, Lady Olivia?’

      He used her name deliberately, so she would know he recognised her. Her eyes flared.

      ‘You have no money, or you would have paid Clevedon,’ he reminded her.

      She gasped at that, her worry palpable. ‘D-does Lord Clevedon know it was me? What if he tells my father?’

      ‘No. He does not know.’ The urge to soothe her took him unawares. Besides, there was no point in her fretting when he knew damned well Clevedon would never tell her father about tonight.

      ‘So, how will you get home if you don’t find your brother?’ he went on, ruthlessly. ‘Will you pay your fare with your bracelet?’

      He raised her arm and the jewels caught the light, winking ice and fire.

      ‘Or maybe an eardrop?’

      He slid his hand under her hood, skimming the satin-soft skin of her neck, and found her earlobe, tugging at it gently. Her breath quickened, her bosom heaving, and he snatched his hand away before he gave in to his instincts...the ones clamouring at him to haul her into his arms and to kiss some sense into her. He grasped her wrist. Firmly.

      ‘You’re coming with me,’ he rasped out and began to stride in the direction of the water gate, towing her along behind him.

      ‘Wh-where are you taking me?’

      The fear in her voice had him slamming to a halt. He clenched his jaw.

      ‘Home,’ he gritted out. ‘And, before you ask, yes...your home.’

      ‘I... I won’t go without my brother.’

      ‘Your brother? Well, and where is he?’ Hugo flung his arm wide, almost knocking a passing gentleman’s hat from his head. ‘If he is supposed to be looking out for you tonight, he’s making a poor fist of it, that’s all I can say. I am not spending all night searching for your ramshackle brother when he clearly doesn’t give a da—hoot that he’s left you on your own in among this sort of crowd. I’m taking you home. Then I can return to my own plans for the evening.’

      With that, he whirled around and set off again, his hand still clamped around her wrist.

      He did not dare to slow his stride—she would only argue again. The sooner he delivered the troublesome minx home, the sooner he could forget all about her and her risk-taking, and her luminous, hypnotic eyes that reminded him of the moon and were fringed by the thickest, darkest, longest lashes he had ever seen.

      Temptress eyes.

      They soon reached Vauxhall Stairs and the water gate. A boat was already waiting and they embarked, along with several other passengers, some of whom Hugo knew. He nodded a greeting, but then pointedly directed his gaze across the river to discourage conversation. If any of them should recognise Olivia...his stomach clenched. She would be well and truly compromised and there was no way he ever intended to wed, not after the wretched example of his parents’ union.

      ‘But what—?’

      ‘Be quiet,’ he growled, glaring down into those wide eyes that glittered at him from behind her mask. ‘We’ll talk later.’

      He ignored her loud puff of exasperation, concentrating instead on the dark ripples of the Thames slipping past the boat as the oarsmen strained to reach the opposite bank.

      They disembarked, still in silence. Olivia stumbled and Hugo steadied her, wrapping his arm around her waist.

      ‘Oops,’ she said, stifling a giggle.

      She straightened and pulled away from him, but her progress was erratic as she made for a waiting hackney. Hardly surprising, given the number of times he had refilled her glass—and her readiness to drain it every time. Hugo instructed the jarvey to take them to Grosvenor Square, where Beauchamp House—the Duke of Cheriton’s London residence—was located, then he handed Olivia up the step and climbed in behind her.

      ‘Why did you stop me from speaking in the boat?’ Her voice quivered with indignation. ‘Who are you to tell me what to do?’

      Hugo shifted on the seat so he was half-facing her, and folded his arms across his chest.

      ‘I am the man who is saving you from the results of your own folly.’

      She pushed back her hood and tore off her mask. ‘Hmmph. Some saviour you are. I should not be alone with you like this. It is scandalous.’

      Her pert little