The sooner he got Miss Kendall out of the rogues’ den, the better.
Miss Kendall—well, he hoped it was the woman who drove him to distraction and not some foppish dandy—had practically made a full loop of the lower gallery. Losing patience, Valentine prodded men in the back to move them out of the way.
He was but three feet from her when another scuffle broke out. This time, one of the burly guards who had been taking payment at the door, grabbed an unsuspecting fellow from the crowd and dragged him past the arena.
Miss Kendall gasped. “Jonathan,” she cried, but the word was barely audible above the din.
An old man with a white cavalier-style beard cupped her elbow, but she tried to shake free of his grasp.
“Excuse me.” Valentine barged into one man and almost trampled over another in a bid to reach the lady. “Kendall?” he called. “Kendall!” he cried, louder this time.
Miss Kendall swung around. Stone-cold fear flashed in her eyes. Her cheeks were pallid, her lips drawn thin in despair.
Every chivalrous bone in his body throbbed with the need to ease her woes.
“Valentine?” she said, struggling to catch her breath. “Is it really you?”
The old man beside her gulped in surprise, but then his shoulders sagged as if he was suddenly pleased someone else might accept responsibility for this reckless creature.
Miss Kendall stepped closer and placed a trembling hand on Valentine’s chest. “I’m so glad to see you.” Hope washed away all sign of pain in her eyes. The lady threw herself into his arms as a sob burst from her throat. “Oh, Valentine. I need your help.”
Chapter Ten
The sight of Lord Valentine’s handsome face brought suppressed emotions rushing to the fore. Ava was a fool to think she could come to the arena and persuade Jonathan to keep his purse strings knotted. Being in the first group of gentlemen admitted, Ava had found him with ease. They had argued. More people piled into the Pit, and he had stormed off into the crowd.
“Oh, Valentine.” The viscount’s coat was warm, comforting. The spicy scent of his cologne clung to the garment. Every time she inhaled, her shoulders relaxed a little more. “It is all my fault.”
Lord Valentine rubbed her back in soothing strokes. He took a gentle hold of her arms and forced her to look at him. “Did you come here hoping to drag your wayward brother home?”
“Yes, and I thought I might speak to Mr Maguire,” she said, stepping closer when the cheering in the arena grew so loud it became hard to hear. “To see if he will freeze the interest payments, see if he will accept a repayment plan.”
A look of horror marred the viscount’s face as his protective hands slipped from her arms. “Please tell me you have not approached Mr Maguire.”
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“No. Not yet.”
A relieved sigh escaped him. “You’re a beautiful woman, Miss Kendall. I’m sure I do not need to tell you what Maguire might suggest in order to comply with your request.”
The compliment distracted her momentarily.
But then the memory of Mr Fairfax tugging at her bodice flashed into her mind. Those icy fingers had mauled and clawed at her clothing. His actions had taught her that some men saw women as a commodity. Some men would stop at nothing to advance their careers.
“When it comes to prudence, I have most definitely lost my way.” Ava drew her coat across her chest and shivered. “I have been such a fool, Valentine. A blind fool who lacks the strength to deal with her own family.”
The lord pursed his lips. He muttered something, but a rowdy jeer from the crowd swallowed his words. The viscount leant forward, his mouth but an inch from her ear.
“Let me help you. It has nothing to do with the fact you’re a woman.” His hot breath teased the sensitive skin on her neck. “This is too much for one person to deal with alone.”
Ava pulled back and looked at him.
Her heart swelled to twice its size until there was hardly any room left in her chest.
She was a little in love with Lord Valentine.
“Yes,” she said, knowing that the pain she would invariably feel when they parted would be worse than the assault by Mr Fairfax, worse than the worries she had for her brother. But tonight, Valentine was here at her side, willing to provide a strong arm of support. And he appeared to be the only one with any sense, for she had most definitely lost use of her mental faculties.
“Yes?” the viscount clarified. “You agree I may act in your stead?”