My Seductive Innocent

by Julie Johnstone

  “Let me go,” Sophia screamed as she beat at Mr. Exington’s back. “You cannot keep my brother!”

  “I can keep him,” the man replied smugly.

  Futile tears stung her eyes as she struggled to breathe, crushed as she was under the heavy weight of the man’s arm.

  Mr. Exington dropped her onto the hard ground and loomed over her. He raised a tattered whip over his head. “If you try to thieve your brother away from me again, I’ll use this whip on you and him. Do you understand me?”

  She stared mutinously at him and sensed the very moment his control snapped by the way he bared his teeth. Her body tensed as he growled and snapped the whip down toward her. Fear caused her to squeeze her eyes shut, as if that would somehow prevent the oncoming blow or somehow lessen the pain.

  The hiss of the whip slicing through the air filled her ears but the anticipated stinging pain didn’t come. She scrambled backward as she glanced up, astonishment ceasing her backward motion and causing her breath to catch in her chest. Nathan stood behind Mr. Exington, whose arm was extended behind him and over his shoulder in an awkward position.

  Not only could she not believe he was out of bed, but he was moving with surprising agility for a man who had almost died and barely had time to recover. And he looked very fine, indeed. Despite the fact that he had nearly died. He had on the same breeches, overcoat and boots she had first seen him in, minus the dirt and wrinkles they had acquired in his journey, thanks to her care of them.

  His cravat was gone, though, and the shirt that peeked out of the overcoat had suspicious dark stains on the part she could see. That could only mean one thing: it was sloppy Frank’s. But even with that dirty old rag on, Nathan managed to appear elegant and... Her eyes travelled inadvertently to his face, and her pulsed skipped a beat. He was foreboding with his shadowy stubble and mysterious narrowed eyes fixed on her.

  With one hand, Nathan gripped Mr. Exington’s wrist, and with the other, his fingers curled around the strap of the whip. A dark cloud consumed his features, except for his eyes, which seemed lit with fire. He turned his sharp gaze to Mr. Exington. “Do you make it a habit to hit women?” he demanded with a vicious tug on the whip, eliciting a growl from Mr. Exington.

  “She hit me on the head with a frying pan and tried to steal my property,” the man thundered.

  “Hey, you!” a man called to them from the street. “Move your bloomin’ carriage out of the way!”

  Sophia glanced toward the busy street and Nathan’s curricle, which was abandoned in the middle of the lane. Where she saw Harry. Harry! Her pulse took off as she realized her brother was standing by the carriage looking very frightened. Forgetting the men for the moment, she raced toward her brother and scooped him into her arms to shower him with hugs and kisses. Her attempt of moments ago to get to Harry had been thwarted by Mr. Exington, and she’d been fearful of what might happen to him before she could figure out how to rescue him.

  “Harry,” she breathed against his fine hair. When she inhaled, she nearly choked on the soot. Setting her brother down, she rubbed her nose with one hand and took his hand in the other while her eyes darted between the men on the nearby walkway and those in the street behind her. She could dash away now with Harry while Nathan had Mr. Exington distracted. She glanced behind her once more at the busy street. She could get away and never return. Something made her look back, though, and Nathan’s gaze locked on her.

  “Don’t do it, Sophia,” he said. “Whatever is happening here, I want to help you.”

  She bit down on her lip, hard. He sounded so sincere, but how could he really help her now? Harry had been sold, and even if Nathan was willing to buy Harry’s freedom, they could not go back to Frank. He’d beat her and simply sell Harry again. “You cannot help me.”

  “I’m a duke, Sophia. I can move mountains if I wish it. Now, kindly lead my horses to the curb, and let us see what can be done.”

  When Harry tugged on her hand, she looked down. He gazed up at her with a goofy smile on his dirty, sweet face. “I l-like him. He’s g-got honest eyes.”

  She dashed a glimpse at Nathan and found him staring at her again. Could she trust him? Years of experience with the unfair sex told her no, but her heart told her yes.

  “The boy is incredibly astute,” Nathan said. “If I am anything, it’s honest. You can trust me.”

  Heat singed her cheeks that he seemed to have read her thoughts. Grabbing the reins, she tugged the horses to the side and secured them to the lamppost. Then she and Harry walked to stand by Nathan, who still had a firm grip on a cursing Mr. Exington. Sophia ignored the bawdy words and looked at Nathan. “I’ll trust you...for now,” she muttered.

  Nathan grinned down at her. “Likewise.”

  She nodded.

  With the same startling quickness he’d displayed the day she met him, Nathan maneuvered Mr. Exington to face him so fast that Sophia was not at all certain how he’d accomplished the task.

  Mr. Exington opened his mouth to speak, but Nathan thwarted him. “If you can manage to hold your loose tongue and let the lady speak first, I have a strong suspicion it could be worth your while.”

  “Who are you?” Mr. Exington growled.

  Nathan’s mouth spread into a thin-lipped smile. “I’m the Duke of Scarsdale.”

  The fiend pointed a beefy, calloused finger at Sophia. “She tried to steal my property.”

  “My brother is not your property!” Sophia said firmly.

  “I bought him for a fair price from your father.”

  Sophia was about to show Nathan just how unladylike her vocabulary could be, but before she could utter a word, he was dragging Mr. Exington closer to him as if the man weighed no more than a feather. He gave the man a look that could have caused a frost in hell. “Did you say you bought this boy from his father?”

  Mr. Exington nodded, which almost made him knock heads with Nathan because of how close they now stood.

  Nathan’s gaze darted to Sophia, for confirmation she supposed. “Frank threatened to do it if I didn’t go along with his plan for you, but he promised he would not unless I made trouble. He’s a liar,” she spat. Anger at herself for having trusted her father at all filled her.

  “How much did you pay for this child?” The low question vibrated with anger.

  “Five pounds.”

  “You think human life worth so little?” Nathan growled and curled his fists tighter around the material of the man’s shirt.

  “I think that’s fair market value for a chimney sweep,” Mr. Exington replied in an emotionless tone.

  “You’re a monster,” Sophia raged, trying to swing at Mr. Exington, but Nathan blocked her hand. For one second, his long fingers curled around her wrist as his eyes met hers, and he subtly shook his head. He wanted her to let him handle it, she understood. Though it pained her mightily to trust a man to that extent, she clamped her mouth shut, not seeing any other real choice.

  He released Mr. Exington with a slight push that sent the man stumbling backward a bit. When he regained his balance, he stepped forward and raised his fists. Sophia flinched and shuffled away, pulling her brother, who was silently clinging to her leg, with her. Nathan had not even flinched.

  He shook his head at Mr. Exington. “I wouldn’t pick a fight with me if I were you. The last man who did ended up with his chest underneath my boot. And the man before that, who I count as one of my closest friends, ended up blacking out. I’m not boasting, mind you, these are simply facts. I’ve had many hours of solitude in my life, and with them, I chose to train in the art of boxing, knife throwing, shooting, and fencing. So you can attempt to hit me or you can take my money.”

  Mr. Exington blinked, as did Sophia.

  “Your money?” the man cautiously asked.

  Nathan nodded. “That’s right. I wish to purchase the boy from you for...why don’t we say double what you paid for him.”

  “Triple,” Mr. Exington threw out.

  Sophia ground
her teeth at the gall of the fiend but said nothing. Harry circled his arms around her leg. She rested her hand on his shoulder and squeezed in a silent attempt to assure him that everything would be fine. She didn’t know how she would ever pay Nathan back for what he was doing, but somehow she would.

  Nathan nodded. “Fine. Triple. I’ll have my man of business send you the money.”

  “I’ll need a marker until then.”

  “You’ve my word,” Nathan replied coldly.

  “I’m afraid, Your Grace, that don’t mean too much to me. I’ll keep the lady in exchange for her brother ’til your money reaches me.” Mr. Exington leered at Sophia. “I’m sure you know by now she’s a lightskirt.”

  Sophia tried to shake Harry off so she could lunge at Mr. Exington and scratch his eyes out, but he held tight even as she bent down and tugged at his fingers. A crack, sounding much like flesh meeting flesh, resounded above her, and when she jolted upright, Mr. Exington was on the ground on his back with Nathan’s polished, expensive boot firmly planted on the wretched man’s chest as promised. Mr. Exington’s bulbous nose was freely bleeding.

  The vein on the right side of Nathan’s neck pulsed furiously. “If I hear of you speaking of the lady that way ever again, I’ll kill you.”

  The threat―delivered in a tone of menacing finality―pleased her in a way she was sure was not nice. But blast it all, it felt awfully good to have someone sticking up for her for once. She could quite imagine how a lady might find herself falling for Nathan.

  He slid a thick gold ring from his pinky and threw it on Mr. Exington’s chest. “When I return to London, I’ll send my man of business back with your funds and he will collect my ring from you. Take a care with it. It was a gift from the king, and I’d be highly displeased if you misplaced it.”

  Mr. Exington grunted and Nathan removed his boot from the man’s chest, and before she knew what was happening, Nathan swept her and Harry into the protective, large, and heated circle of his strong arms. He ushered them toward the curricle and then hurried them up onto the bench. The seat was small and Sophia was vividly aware of Nathan’s muscular thigh pressed so tightly against her own. Her pulse skittered alarmingly and her stomach fluttered.

  He turned them into the street and maneuvered through the traffic while she struggled to control her surprising attraction to this man. He was beautiful, of course, there was that, but her gut told her it was so much more. He’d rescued her twice, and now her brother, too. And in doing this, he now had her trust. It seemed to her this was a good sign that somewhere out there existed a man like Nathan―not him, of course. She wasn’t a nitwit. He was a duke and she was a commoner―that would treasure her and love her as she longed to be loved.

  They rode in jostling silence until they reached the outskirts of the busy section of town, and without warning, Nathan maneuvered the curricle off the side of the road. He lowered the reins for the horses to relax and turned to face her.

  “You are a continuous surprise,” he drawled, leaning back against the seat of his curricle and surveying her with an open expression of amusement.

  “So are you,” she said. “What are you doing out of bed?”

  “I was leaving.”

  Her heart dropped toward the dirt, though she knew she should not be surprised. “Leaving?”

  He reached out, ran a finger over the bridge of her nose, and then held up his fingertip covered with flour to her. “Mrs. Dalton?”

  She gaped. “How did you know?”

  His lips pressed into a hard line. “I had the unfortunate displeasure of meeting her when I was looking for you.”

  “Why were you looking for me?”

  “Ah, because your father tried to force me to marry you. He told me a story I was sure was highly fabricated about your disgraceful downfall due to helping me.”

  Heat singed her cheeks. “And what do you think now?”

  He crooked his lips. “I think we have a problem.”

  “We?” she squeaked, hardly believing he cared at all.

  He nodded slowly. “I’m not sure what to do, to be honest. Your father―”

  “Frank beats her,” Harry blurted out.

  Sophia gasped and scowled at her brother until he squirmed. “Of all the times to speak without stuttering and you chose now while you reveal things you have no right to reveal!” she chided Harry. “Frank does not beat me,” she lied, giving Harry her fiercest warning look to keep his lips shut tight. She did not want Nathan to pity her.

  Harry scowled back. “Sh-she’s ashamed. M-make her p-pull up her l-left sleeve. You’ll―”

  “Be quiet, Harry!” Sophia demanded, but as the command left her lips, strong fingers clasped her left wrist, tugged her arm straight, and pulled up the sleeve of her dress until the ugly, red, puckered cut Frank had given her during his whipping was revealed, along with the yellow-and-purple bruising surrounding it.

  Any protest she was about to make was silenced by the dark fury that swept across Nathan’s face. With clouded eyes that didn’t seem to see what he was doing, he rubbed his thumb very gently near her cut and over her bruises. The tender gesture caused a tremor to race through her body, and his thumb immediately froze as his eyes locked with hers. “I do believe I may be stuck.”

  The way Sophia’s brow creased was so beguiling it made Nathan’s chest tighten. Her gaze strayed to his body and back to his face as she clearly tried to work through what the devil he’d meant. He’d gladly give her the time because he needed a moment, too. Was he actually considering marrying this woman?

  What sort of life would she have if he didn’t? He could give her enough money to live a decent sort of life, but he could not erase the stain on her reputation by simply bestowing money on her. No real gentleman would likely ever marry her because her damaged reputation would follow her as close as her shadow and would make it impossible to have the life she probably dreamed of. And regardless of whether that dream was truly out of her grasp because of her background, helping him had taken away any chance at all of her overcoming who her father was and where she came from. All this because she’d been willing to risk her life and name to try to save him.

  He gripped his aching arm as he glanced at her. Sophia was like a fragile bird that he’d inadvertently put in danger by touching. Except he hadn’t touched her. The danger came from her helping him and her fool of a father purposely ruining her to try to gain wealth. He could leave her in the nest and she would be destroyed. That free spirit and pride he’d glimpsed would be crushed under the weight of her father’s scathing treatment, and she’d have no opportunity to ever have a better life. Or he could marry her and save her from the problem he had inadvertently helped cause.

  He studied her as she toyed with her cropped hair. “What happened to your hair?” he asked, not realizing he was even going to inquire about it until he words had left his mouth.

  A fiery blush covered her pale, gaunt cheeks. “Frank cut it off for money.” She sniffed and looked down. Her hands gripped the shabby material of her dress. “It was my only good feature,” she whispered, her voice throbbing with restrained tears.

  Sympathy he hadn’t even realized he had the capability to feel with such painful depth pierced his heart, his gut, and his lungs to rob him of breath. It occurred to him clearly, then, what it was he liked so much about her. Despite everything, she seemed to possess hope and an indomitable spirit. He’d be damned if he would let her father kill that and fill her with shame. He knew shame. It dwelled within him like an old cobweb in a high corner that he couldn’t quite reach to brush away. It was not an emotion someone should have to live with day after day.

  He stared at Sophia’s clasped hands, uncertain how to proceed, or maybe simply uncertain what to say. He understood what should be done, and not just for the sake of honor but for the sake of Sophia and her brother. If he took her back to her father and left her there, it would be like leaving a lamb to be slaughtered. She’d run, he was certain of it,
but the thought of what she would find as a welcome on the cold, hard streets of London chilled him.

  He clenched his fingers in at attempt to stop the throbbing in his injured arm, aware of the child’s eyes on him as he did so, so he forced what he hoped was a reassuring smile. The fragile boy reminded him too damn much of himself. After he married Sophia, the first thing he would do was send the boy off to school. He didn’t want a constant reminder of the weak child he once was living underfoot.

  “Look at me,” he commanded. If they were going to be married, it was best she understood from the outset that he had no use for love. He did not need it, nor want it. Weak men longed for love. Foolish men. But as her bright-blue eyes bore into him, and he noted the smallest quivering of her bottom lip, he decided there would be plenty of time to make his feelings on the matter clear. It was more important to dispel of her shame right now, which she didn’t deserve to bear.

  “I want to make sure I have all the facts straight before we proceed. Will you answer a few of my questions?”

  “Maybe,” she said, raising her chin in defiance.

  Nathan chuckled. She may be ashamed but it was only because she had a great amount of pride and fight. He found himself oddly pleased that she did. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he tried to determine what he needed to know. “Do you have any relatives other than your father?”

  She shook her head but then cast her gaze to her brother.

  Nathan waved a hand. “I mean older relatives that could take you in.”

  When she frowned, he sighed. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’ve already run through that scenario and have concluded it would not help you.” She’d not reached her majority; therefore she was under her father’s rule.

  “I don’t understand,” she mumbled.

  “I’ll explain momentarily.” He wanted to talk to her, but some of the things that needed to be discussed might hurt the child’s feelings. He turned to the boy. “What’s your name?”