Duchess 02 - Surprising Lord Jack by Sally Mackenzie Read Free Book Online

once he’d got his horses settled down. He sounded as if he was holding on to his temper as tightly as he’d gripped the reins a moment ago.
    “No, I haven’t. Why?”
    He shot her a pointed look. “Because Hart Street is narrow and dirty and full of taverns and brothels and all sorts of riffraff. If you’d come by yourself, you wouldn’t have lasted five minutes there.”
    That didn’t sound at all like the sort of place her boring, staid brother would live. “You must be mistaken.”
    “And you must be daft.” His jaw hardened. “You’ve never been to Town, and yet you think you know everything about the place.”
    “I know my brother.”
    “Not very well.”
    She couldn’t really dispute that.
    “London is nothing like the country, Master Haddon. There are men—and women—who live to prey on young bumpkins like you. They have absolutely no conscience. They’ll take your money or your life—or both—without a second thought.” He scowled at her. “You will stay close to my side as though you were glued there until I hand you off to your relative.”
    Typical male, creating bugbears to try to frighten her into doing what he wanted. “I will not.”
    “Then I will not take you to your brother’s rooms. I’ll bring you to Greycliffe House, and he can come fetch you there.”
    “No!” That would be disastrous. At least if Lord Jack took her to Frederick’s, she had some hope of maintaining her masquerade. “I, er, ah . . . you’re right.” Flattery usually worked. Men liked to think they were superior. “Frederick will probably be annoyed at me for showing up unannounced, but he’ll be furious if he has to rearrange his schedule to come retrieve me.” She tried for a slight tremor of fear. “I hate it when he’s angry.”
    Perhaps she had some nascent dramatic skills, because Lord Jack’s brows snapped down into a deep scowl.
    “Does he beat you?” His words cut like steel.
    “Oh no.” She didn’t want him greeting Frederick with his fists. “But he’ll give me a thundering scold.”
    His scowl relaxed a bit. “And you’ll deserve every single word of it.”
    He turned onto a narrow street which shortly opened into a large square. “Covent Garden,” he said as his horses picked their way past piles of snow, abandoned potatoes, and scattered cabbage leaves. “We’re here at just the right time. In the morning it’s a mass of people buying and selling fruits and vegetables and other wares; at night . . .” He looked at her. “You do not want to know what’s sold here at night.”
    She looked at the fine portico around the edges of the square and the jumble of stalls in the middle. The place had the feel of an elegant lady who’d let the ravages of time and the insults of daily life wear her down.
    She knew exactly what brought merchants coins at night: idiot men, like her rakish father and Lord Jack, looking for whores.
    “I’ll leave the curricle at the Nag’s Head,” Jack said as they left the square. “Hart Street is far too narrow to turn the horses. What number is your brother’s boardinghouse?”
    “Thirty-four.”
    “Let’s hope that’s not a long walk.”
    Jack pulled up in front of the public house and called to a boy standing outside. “Here, Henry. Watch my horses, will you?”
    The boy grinned and hurried over. “Aye, milord.”
    Jack swung down from the curricle in one fluid motion; Frances clambered down much less gracefully.
    She looked around. Could she make a dash for Frederick’s place now? No. Hart Street went both left and right. She had no idea in which direction to run, and, after a moment of surprise, Lord Jack was certain to give chase and catch her, dragging her back by her ear. She flushed. That would be beyond embarrassing.
    “Take good care of them,” Jack was telling Henry when Frances joined him, “and there’s a shilling in it for you.”
    The boy’s grin widened. “Aye, milord. I’ll watch these beauties well, don’t ye