Delightfully Dangerous (Knights Without Armor Book 1)

by Marly Mathews

  He looked away from her, and bit back a response. The urge to tell her that she needed to be more aware of her surroundings sat on the tip of his tongue. She wouldn’t know danger unless it walked up and smacked her squarely in the face. Still, his senses had never steered him wrong before, and he had the feeling that the men who were manning the coach were not exactly the usual rough and readies. They were hired for a purpose. What purpose that was, he had yet to ascertain, but he didn’t think they were here to kidnap Lydia. No, quite the contrary. Perhaps her brother wasn’t as clueless as she thought. Micah had never struck him as a fool, and old habits usually died hard.

  “Do you always hail the same coach every night you go out?” he asked, attempting to keep his tone level so as not to frighten her.

  Glancing away from him, she sighed. “I don’t really have to hail the carriage, they’re just there ready and waiting for their set down.”

  “So it’s always the same coachmen?”

  “Of course, it is. Why…does that strike you as strange?”

  “No.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose they see an easy fare in you.”

  “Maybe they do,” she relented. He’d expected her to pitch a fight with him. Instead, she’d agreed with him.

  “They say a coachman’s life is quite a lucrative one.”

  “They do?” she asked. “I never pay more than two shillings for my trip, and I’ve offered to give them a deposit while they wait for me at the fight, but they sometimes decline. They always adhere to the code of conduct befitting of coachmen. They’ve not once sworn in front of me. They have behaved like perfect gentlemen.”

  “They’ve treated you like a little lady, then, aye?”

  Her cheeks rose with color. “I…no, they haven’t…they’re not supposed to…oh, you varlet! You are teasing me!”

  “Guilty as charged,” he grinned widely. “Now then, when we arrive, I expect you to stay close to me.”

  “Expectation and reality are two entirely different animals,” she retorted. “I shall not be under your thumb all night.”

  “You are in my custody, therefore, you shall remain with me for the entire night.”

  “Or, shall you remain with me?” she countered. “Let us not argue. I want to have the time of my life tonight, Richard. Why won’t you allow me that one boon?”

  Why indeed. There was no harm in what they’d done up to now. While she was being frightfully naïve, she didn’t seem to be in any real danger.

  “I shall,” he whispered. Suddenly, he wanted to give her anything in the world. Her face lit up like a thousand candles.

  “You won’t regret this, Richard.”

  “I don’t think I shall. At least we will have some stories to tell to our grandchildren in our old age.”

  “You’ll get there before I will.” She clapped her mouth shut suddenly, her face going a bright vermillion. She’d just gone along with him, not even disputing the fact that they would share grandchildren. “Just remember.” Her words came out a little rushed. “We are not to speak a word of this to anyone. It shall be our little secret.”

  Secrets were a form of currency to him. He nodded. Leaning, back he locked gazes with her. “I am going to close my eyes and try to catch a few minutes of rest. Do be a good little lady, and behave while I’m relaxing.”

  She looked away from him, and he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, he rested his eyes.

  The carriage wheels noisily clattered over the busy London streets. They were headed to an open field just outside of the city limits. They hit a particularly large rut in the road, and it jostled Lydia so much she shot straight off her seat. Instantly alert, he caught her, and held her close. Her breathing became labored.

  “They need to do something about the wretched conditions of the roads,” she muttered. Her face was still spotted with color, and her eyes had never been livelier. He quite liked this side of Lydia. Perhaps, even after they were married, he would suggest they go out to social functions disguised as she was now. It was a shame he hadn’t known beforehand about the games she liked to play, he probably could have rigged up a nice little disguise for himself, akin to the ones he used to employ when they’d been fighting Boney and his lot.

  “They do.” He agreed, locking gazes with her. He was so very tempted to kiss her. Ravishing her here and now wouldn’t be too hard. Her lips looked as if they were begging for a kiss, and really, who was he to deny her? He leaned toward her mouth, and was just about to lock lips with her when her eyes crackled with excitement and she snapped to attention.

  “My lord,” she exclaimed, rattling his nerves.

  “Yes?” he drawled out lazily.

  “This is not the time or the place for this kind of foolishness.”

  “Foolishness?”

  “I am not yours to kiss.”

  “I…come again?”

  “I am not yours to kiss, therefore, you can keep your lips far away from mine. You’ve stolen one kiss from me, and that is all you shall receive this night, sir.”

  He laughed. He couldn’t help it. His laughter boomed around the inside of the carriage.

  “Ah, my dearest, you never fail to entertain me.”

  She scrambled out of his embrace, and went back to her own seat. Eyeing him with what he could only describe as her best attempt at giving the evil eye, she crossed her arms over her rather pushed down chest. Now that he thought about it, he wanted to know how she had flattened out her charms. While they weren’t overly ample, she still had enough to show off to all of the world that she was indeed female.

  “You, sir, vex me to no end.”

  “Thank you. I shall take that as a compliment.” She finally looked away from him to stare out the window at the passing sights. “What’s this I hear about you and some young buck courting?”

  “I wouldn’t say we are courting. He has merely expressed a particular interest in me.”

  “I think he should find someone else to express a particular interest in.”

  “And why would you think that?”

  Was she challenging him? “The young buck whose head you’ve turned, I think my sister Julia was acquainted with him. He used to do those infernal races with her…” Dawning recognition went through him. “Is that where you first became acquainted with him, Lydia? This gentleman is The Honorable James Newson, is he not?”

  “Yes.” She looked guiltily down at her hands. Thoughts of her racing in a damnable curricle dashed through his mind, and he had to close his hands into fists to keep from jumping to all of the horrible fates that could befall her. Julia had also worried him greatly when she’d decided to take her carefree spirit and become a curricle racer extraordinaire.

  “You aren’t racing anymore, are you?” he asked slowly, attempting to keep his temper in check.

  “And what business is that of yours, sir?”

  “You do realize that people have broken their necks under such recklessly impulsive acts of so-called entertainment. When we are married, you shall cease those activities at once.”

  “Lord Tisbury.” Her voice was crisp, fairly detached and almost cold. “You seem to be laboring under a misapprehension. I am not going to become your wife. I am never going to become your wife. You had your chance, and you squandered it thoroughly. The position of Countess of Tisbury shall fall to another lady, and I wish her the best of luck with it—and now that I think of it, with you.”

  “You can object all you want, my dear, but we both know how you feel on the subject. I admit I was a fool for ever thinking I could marry anyone but you, but I’ve woken from my delusions, and I have decided that you and I are meant for each other.”

  “I see. You seem to have it all in hand, don’t you?” She had her hands down at her sides, and if he wasn’t mistaken they were tightly bunched into fists. “It always has to be on your terms. You didn’t give a jot for me before.” She fell silent suddenly. “We are almost at our destination. I don’t want us to be caught argu
ing. You’ve always been such a pleasant chap, and I still think of us as old friends, some might even call us family now as your cousin married my brother. Shall we agree to disagree on this subject and move on?”

  “I won’t let you marry Mr. Newson.”

  “That’s not within the realm of your powers, sir.”

  “Maybe not,” he sighed, and nodded. “I agree, let us put aside our disagreements, and focus on enjoying what’s left of the evening, though I daresay, you’ll enjoy the night far more than I shall. I’m not much for boxing. I don’t see the attraction of men pounding each other into bloody messes.” He’d seen far enough of that during the wars.

  “I know,” she said grimly.

  Now, it was his turn to feel indignant. “I held back when it came to Lord Chorley.”

  “Of course you did,” she said matter-of-factly, though her tone lacked any confidence.

  “I did,” he insisted, leaning forward. “I swear to you, Lydia that if I had wanted to thrash Lord Chorley within an inch of his life, I would have. However, that’s not how I conduct business anymore. I am, and shall always be, a gentleman.”

  “Fighting with your fists is conducting business?”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  “You tend to speak in riddles a lot, and I must confess Lord Tisbury, I am growing quite tired of it.”

  “You don’t believe that I could have bested Lord Chorley, do you?”

  “I know that you are no coward.”

  “Well, that’s at least something. You don’t think I’m a coward, but you also do not believe I could handle myself in a fight. Admit it, Lydia.”

  “I…I…Micah says you can handle anything that you are dealt. I believe Micah.”

  “You might think I could best any man in a battle of wits, but you doubt my ability to protect you.”

  “No, no, I do not. I do believe you can protect me. Your station in life gives me all the protection I need.”

  “You only think I can hide behind the authority of my title. You disappoint me. I see I shall have to redeem myself in your eyes. You view me as a fop. Worse yet, I do believe you see me as a milksop—that cuts me deeply, my dear.”

  “I don’t think you’re a milksop.” Again, she looked guiltily down at her feet. “Pray, stop putting words in my mouth, sir. It is most unkind.”

  “The truth is in your eyes. I don’t have to put words in your mouth, I only have to take them out as you don’t have the nerve to speak them. Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? Have I shattered the Herculean image you had of me?”

  “No.” She looked down at her lap. “You…know why I’ve been staying away. You trod all over my heart, Richard. I don’t wish to speak of it, right now. You’ve only confronted me about it because I have nowhere to go. I am trapped with you, and you are taking advantage of the situation.”

  “And that frightens you?”

  “You could never frighten me. Indeed, I feel quite comforted and at ease in your company. It’s…just…I wish to continue the rest of our journey in silence, sir. Pray, afford me that one boon.”

  “I’ve been indulging you an awful lot tonight, Lydia. Fine. You may have things your way.” They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. “Devil take it. I cannot indulge you. I cannot remain quiet, not with you. Now, there’s one thing that tonight has taught me.”

  “And what is that?”

  “It’s opened my eyes to the way things are between us, and it’s taught me that despite all of the years I’ve known you, there are still some things we do not know about each other. In some ways, we are almost strangers. You’d freely admit that, would you not?”

  “Yes, yes, I would.”

  “Then, my dear, do not cast aspersions my way based on how you think I handled myself with Lord Chorley. I handled that situation the only way I could—thereby saving Lord Chorley a disgrace he never would have been able to navigate out of, and possibly saving him a good deal of harm as well. I tend to forget myself when I’m engaged with the enemy.”

  “I would hardly call Lord Chorley your enemy.”

  “He might not be right now, but he was then.”

  “All because you wanted to claim the hand of a woman you never should have been chasing.”

  “I admit, yes, I was pursuing the wrong woman. But…I put this to you, what would you do, if I started to pursue the right woman?”

  “I would…I would gladly cheer you on, sir,” she said, her voice wavering with emotion.

  “I have my answer. Mark my words, you shall be mine, Lady Lydia. I shall win your heart all over again, and prove to you that I am your one and only hero—if you will, I shall become your knight without armor.”

  ydia let out the breath she’d been holding. Her nerves were decidedly rattled.

  Richard looked deadly serious. It sent shivers up and down her spine. Finally, after waiting for what seemed like an eternity, Richard was looking at her the way she’d always wanted him to.

  Her mouth went dry. “I could use a cider. We are here. Finally.” It wasn’t as if she needed to announce it, the carriage had rolled to a stop a few moments before. He remained where he sat, and she felt too nervous to take the lead. “And I have quite the hankering for some jellied eels.” He curled his lip. “That’s right. You can’t stand the stuff, can you?”

  “No.”

  Oh, she was going to have such fun with him. “Come with me.” She almost reached out for his hand and caught herself just in time. He moved to open the carriage door for them. Stepping down into the crisp early morning air, he reached back inside the carriage to assist her, and faltered. “I can get down myself, thank you, sir.” For one brief moment, he’d forgotten she wasn’t attending the fight as a girl. “Let us go and make our way over to the stalls before the fight starts. Look around you, my lord. Isn’t this a wondrous place? There are so many spectators from all walks of life. The highs and the lows of life all assemble here. And there is so much to watch, too, George. Pay particular attention to the lovely display of the pigeons being released with their dispatches during the fight. It makes for quite the show.”

  Richard’s eyes scanned the field. She saw him assessing everything as was his way. He studied people more than others noticed. She turned around and gave her deposit so the driver and his partner would hold the coach for them.

  “We’ll pay admission to the fight first, and then we can seek out some tasty treats! Come along, George, and make certain you watch where you step, it can be quite mucky out here.”

  Richard grumbled beneath his breath. It sounded as if he said, “I always watch where I step.”

  Leading the way, she spotted the Eel and Pie Man, and left Richard behind, despite his loud protestations. Hawkers were everywhere selling their wares. Their cries echoed around her. A mixture of scents assailed her nose. She breathed in deeply, relishing the pleasing aromas of fresh bread, hot pies, roasted meats, and roasted chestnuts. The less pleasing aromas of beer, ale, pipe smoke and wood smoke, danced together with the rather repugnant scent of horse dung and unwashed bodies.

  “Jamie,” Alex Mandeville called out, stopping her short. Part of the Fancy, he was a champion, and had won three fights, making him a champion. During his fighting days, he’d gained the moniker, Alexander the Great—or some just simply called him The Conqueror. Now, retired, he served as Pip Bird’s tutor and as one of his seconds, during his time training Pip he’d made him into a formidable fighter who could now throw more than just clumsy haymakers. Alex had the manners and bearing of a gentleman, and it was rumored that he had an earl somewhere on his family tree. Whether that was fact or fiction, Lydia could tell he was of noble breeding for Alex was certainly no plebian. She wagered he was the second son of an earl or his nephew. Whatever his relation to the peer, he wasn’t that far removed.

  “Pip wants to talk to you before the bout. He wanted you to show him some of that fancy footwork you used on Baron Longworth’s son. He’s waiting in our tent.” Alas, h
er jellied eels would have to wait.

  “You did what?” Richard exclaimed. Lydia whirled about to face him. How long had he been standing there? That was the thing with Richard, he could move in a stealthy manner that belied his size. She sometimes wondered if he lumbered about and only pretended to be clumsy—perhaps he pretended a great many things.

  She swallowed thickly, praying he would not make much of a fuss. All she needed was for him to create a scene and publicly reveal her as Lady Lydia Radcliff. Her heart racing, she tried to calm herself before she spoke. “It was a minor trifle. He insulted my family. And so, fisticuffs were required.”

  “Quite right,” Alex agreed. “The chap is well known for picking fights with the wrong people. He noticed that you were small of frame, and decided to prey on what he judged was a weak target, you showed him he was a fool, though. You gave him a bloody good thrashing he won’t soon forget. Ah, it was a marvelous sight to behold. The cheers you earned from the crowd, I shan’t soon forget. You certainly fought with the spirit of the great Daniel Mendoza.”

  “A word, Jamie.” Richard pulled her aside. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he said, “You fought the man for insulting your imaginary family?”

  “It was the principle of it,” she answered. He looked at her as if she’d gone straight to Bedlam. His expression injured her pride.

  “You are not Jamie Poole!” She’d never seen him so passionate. Who knew this was the way to get his passions riled? Had she known, she might have been able to use it to her advantage back when it had mattered. “You are so lucky they didn’t expect you to fight bare chested.” His eyes flashed with blue fire. Pangs of guilt washed through her. Perhaps she had been foolhardy to engage in a public fight. She could never fight like a true prizefighter. Her sex and her high social standing limited her in far too many ways.