“In a manner of speaking, yes.” He slipped his blade back into the sheath tucked into his boot, brushed the wet lock of hair back off his brow and came towards her. “No doubt you’re rather glad I did.”
“I have never been more pleased to see you.” Her bonnet shielded her eyes from the rain, but water dripped from the tip of her nose.
He cupped her cheek with his bare hand, used the pad of his thumb to wipe the rain from her chin. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. The rogue wanted money that’s all.”
“Perhaps.”
“Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not to me.”
A satisfied smile played on his lips. He looked so sinfully handsome. Lord help her. Would she ever be able to look at him and not feel love in her heart, or lust in her loins?
“So you did not see me stalking you?”
In truth, she had been so focused on avoiding the subject of marriage she had thought of nothing else. “No, I did not see you.”
They stared at each other, ignoring the rain. She wondered what he was thinking, wondered why he had come.
“I should get you home before you catch your death of cold.” Ross gestured to a point beyond the mist. “My carriage is waiting on Castle Street.”
“But what about Mr Hungerford? We cannot leave him.” It suddenly occurred to her that the poor fellow might have caught the Frenchman. “What if he’s lying injured in the gutter?”
“I can assure you he will return unharmed.”
Ross sounded so confident. Perhaps he knew something she didn’t. Perhaps Mr Hungerford was more skilled with a sword than she’d given him credit.
As if on cue, the clip of booted footsteps reached her ears. Mr Hungerford appeared at the entrance to the alley. He stopped, gripped the wall and bent his head as if all the air was spent from his lungs.
“Mr Hungerford.” Estelle rushed to his side. “Are you well? Did you catch the rogue?”
“I … I’m afraid not,” he gasped. His cheeks were berry-red, and his chest heaved at far too rapid a rate. “The scoundrel was too … too light on his feet, although I whacked him on the back with my cane.”
“You hit him with your stick?” Ross mocked. “How brave.”
“He was too quick for me. The man is skilled in the art of fleeing a crime.”
Ross folded his arms across his broad chest. “Perhaps we should visit Bow Street, recount the event and describe the culprit.”
With a quizzical expression, Mr Hungerford inhaled deeply and said, “I cannot remember much about him. All thieves look the same. Besides, Miss Brown is soaked to the skin. I should see her home before she catches a chill.”
“I shall escort Miss Brown home,” Ross insisted.
“I would not be a gentleman if I neglected in my duty to deliver Miss Brown directly to her front door.”
Ross straightened. “Perhaps you suffer from an impediment and did not hear me the first time.”
“Enough of this,” Estelle said with some frustration. “Do not speak about me as if I were not here.” Considering the sodden state of their clothes, the inclement weather and the late hour there seemed to be only one solution. “Lord Trevane has his carriage and will see us all safely home.”
A smile touched Ross’ lips accompanied by a look that suggested he had expected her to come to that conclusion. “After suffering at the hands of that scoundrel, we should adhere to Miss Brown’s wishes.”
Mr Hungerford sighed. How could he refuse? “Very well. Lead the way.”
When they exited the alley into Castle Street, Wickett was loitering on the pavement, the collars of his coat raised to shield him from the rain. He opened the carriage door and waited for them to climb inside. “Where to, my lord?”