at him with his walking stick raised. The woman jumped between them, spreading out her arms to stop them, her steadying hand meeting Justin’s chest. He looked down at the lithe fingers spread out over his loose shirt, her thumb just slipping into the open V to kiss his sweaty skin. It was the lightest of touches, but it could have knocked him across the garden.
She turned her piercing eyes on him and they opened wide with a shock to match his. Tense breaths raised and lowered his chest beneath her palm as he waited for her to pull away, the danger from the other men fading beneath the subtle press of her skin against his. Helena’s touch had never rattled him to his boot heels like this woman’s, which was igniting him like a reed set to the coals.
‘Then what exactly is it?’ the older man demanded, lowering his stick, but not easing the hard glare he fixed on the woman.
At last she pulled back her hand and it was almost a relief as the tension between them ebbed, although not completely.
From the ground, the bull coughed and hauled himself to his feet. He staggered over to stand beside the older man. A nasty bruise marred his cheekbone and he failed to fully straighten as he continued to cradle his stomach.
‘Is this the man you’ve been compromising yourself with?’ the bull wheezed.
‘I’ve never seen this woman before in my life,’ Justin spat out, levelling his gaze at both men and daring either of them to pounce again. Whatever connection he’d experienced with the strange woman was gone.
‘This isn’t him. I forced my way into his carriage to hide from you.’ The woman threw an apologetic look at Justin over her shoulder before turning to face her family. ‘I wasn’t here for a tryst. I was waiting for Lord Howsham. We were to be married, but he never arrived.’
Her defiance began to wilt beneath the truth and her father’s condemning stare. Despite his stinging knuckles, Justin felt a twinge of pity for her. He knew a little something about disappointed hopes.
‘Then who is he?’ The bull pointed at Justin.
‘Who the hell are you?’ Justin shot back. This whole situation was growing tiresome.
The older gentleman stepped forward, asserting his authority the way Justin had seen his own father do so many times. ‘I’m Horace Aberton, Duke of Rockland, and this is my son, Edgar, Marquess of Sutton, and my daughter, Miss Susanna Lambert.’
Justin raised an eyebrow at the hesitation which met Lord Rockland’s admission of the woman’s relationship to him. Justin supposed if he gave a fig for what the upper classes got up to when they weren’t trying to thump him outside Vauxhall Gardens, he’d understand the hesitation, but he didn’t and therefore didn’t care.
‘If you expect me to be impressed, I’m not.’ Justin had helped collect enough debts from men like Lord Rockland to not be cowed by their grand titles and lack of manners.
‘How dare you?’ Lord Sutton stomped forward, ready for another beating.
‘Stop.’ Lord Rockland’s booming voice pulled him back, muzzling but not completely checking the bull’s anger. ‘I think we’ve had enough fighting for one night. I believe an apology is in order, Mr—?’
‘Connor.’ Justin jerked straight the lapels of his coat.
‘I’m sorry for offending you this evening and for holding you responsible for an inappropriate situation in which you were not involved.’ Lord Rockland laid a large hand on his chest, his diamond ring flashing in the lantern light. ‘Surely you understand how easy it was to make such a mistake.’
‘No, not particularly.’
‘Then perhaps you can understand the need for discretion.’
‘It’s not my discretion you need to worry about.’ He flung a look at Miss Lambert, who boldly faced him. He had to give the woman her due; she was no cowering miss.
‘True, but I’d like us to come to some understanding about your tact in this matter. If you’d be so kind as to pay a call on me tomorrow at noon, I believe I can make it worth your while.’
Justin wanted nothing more to do with this trio, but he did need money to finally put his last venture behind him and start again. He recognised opportunity when it came crashing through his chaise door. ‘I believe you can.’
‘Good. Until tomorrow.’ Lord Rockland bowed to Justin before ushering his wayward progeny away.
‘He doesn’t deserve—’ Lord Sutton sputtered.
‘After the beating he gave you, I recommend you shut your mouth.’ Lord Rockland’s admonishment silenced any further protest.
Only Miss Lambert dared to turn and watch Justin as she strode away with her father and brother. It was a plaintive glance, but Justin wasn’t in the mood for extending more pity or forgiveness. With his plans for the evening in tatters, he stepped back into his chaise and made for home. With any luck, tomorrow would be better. He’d receive a tidy sum of an apology from the duke, the kind he needed to repay Philip for the money he’d invested and lost in Justin’s last venture, and secure the necessary merchandise to establish himself in the wine trade. Nature had defeated him last time. It wouldn’t happen again. He’d succeed, no matter what Helena or anyone else thought.
* * *
‘What did you think you were doing?’ Lord Rockland roared at Susanna from across the coach as it spirited them away from Vauxhall Gardens.
‘Acting like a slut,’ her half-brother sneered. ‘What else do you expect from a bastard?’
‘Shut your mouth, Edgar.’ Lord Rockland trilled his fingers on his knees. ‘Well, Susanna? Why were you throwing yourself and my promise of your dowry away?’
To have a home, life and family of my own instead of constantly being reminded of how grateful I should be to you for nothing, she thought, but she didn’t dare utter it. She was too ashamed of her foolishness to make the situation worse with the truth. ‘I told you, I went to meet Lord Howsham. We were to leave for Gretna Green.’
‘With the rumours of debt circling him, I’m not surprised he ran after you, or I should say your dowry. Did he compromise you?’ Lord Rockland pressed, though she didn’t know why. Her father wasn’t about to force the earl’s hand, not for his bastard daughter.
‘No, I’m not as stupid as you believe,’ she lied. The truth would see her banished back to the country with all hope of escape lost. Thankfully, the darkness of the carriage kept the shame from lighting up her face. She’d been a naive fool to believe Lord Howsham’s false compliments, but she’d been so lonely and he so attentive and insistent. Lord Howsham hadn’t cared for her. He’d only been after her dowry. She pressed her fingertips to her temples, chastising herself more than her father ever could.
‘If I’d known bringing you to London to try and make a good match would result in you throwing yourself at the first man who flattered you, I’d have left you at Rockland Place.’
She wished he had, but remained silent. It was best not to provoke him. Instead, all she could do was play the dutiful daughter, bite back her anger at his and his family’s treatment of her in what they considered the name of generosity and humble herself once again. ‘I’m sorry, you’re right,
