Someone to Watch Over Me by Lisa Kleypas Read Free Book Online

way inthe company of a stranger, would she?
    “H-how well did we know each other?” Vivien asked unsteadily.
    “We’ll discuss it later.” Exactly what he was going to say to her, and how he would present the situation, would take some consideration. In the meantime she would rest and heal, and remain under his protection. Although Vivien seemed none too pleased with his evasiveness, she refrained from pursuing the matter, and he guessed she was still too exhausted to debate. Reaching into the pocket of his waistcoat, he extracted his watch. The lateness of the hour made him frown. “I have to leave for Bow Street,” he said. “I’ll visit your town house today and fetch some clothes for you.”
    She made an effort to smile, but her blue eyes were pleading. “Do I have family or friends to send for?”
    “I don’t know about your family,” Grant admitted. “I’ll find out what I can. And yes, you have friends…but now isn’t the time for visiting. You need to rest.” Unable to resist the temptation, he reached out and traced one of the worry lines on her downy forehead. “Don’t worry, sweet pea,” he murmured.
    Vivien settled back against the pillows, her eyelids heavy with exhaustion. “So many questions,” she sighed.
    “You’ll soon have all the answers you desire.” He paused, and some of the vibrant tenderness left his voice as he added, “Although you may not like some of them.”
    She stared at him solemnly, her hand creepingto her throat. “What happened to me last night?”
    “I intend to find out,” he replied in a grim tone that left no room for doubt.
     
    The street shaped like a bow had been built in the mid sixteen hundreds. There had been a few famous residents of Bow Street in the last century. But after the turn of the century, there was only one name associated with Bow Street that truly mattered…Sir Ross Cannon.
    It seemed at times that the attention of the entire world was focused on the narrow, four-story building and its famous inhabitant. Cannon directed his half dozen Runners and eighty other assorted officers like a master conductor. The Runners had gained worldwide fame as they suppressed riots, solved crimes, and protected the royal family.
    At the death of one of Fieldings’s successors five years ago, many important men had been discussed as candidates for the new chief magistrate. However, a relative unknown was finally appointed to the position…Ross Cannon, who had previously served as a magistrate in the Great Marlboro Street office. Cannon had assumed the duties of chief magistrate as if he had been born to it. In no time at all he had left his own distinctive stamp on the Bow Street office, treating detective work as if it were a science, inventing methodology, testing theories, guiding and encouraging his officers with an infectious zeal. He was demanding and driven, and any one of his men would have gladly died for him. Including Grant.
    Grant ascended the three front steps and gave avigorous knock at the door. It was answered by Cannon’s housekeeper, Mrs. Dobson, a fat, motherly woman with a head of bobbing silver curls. Her pudgy face glowed with a smile as she welcomed Grant inside. “You without a hat again, Mr. Morgan…You’ll catch your death one of these days, with the wind blowing from the north like this.”
    “I can’t wear a hat, Mrs. Dobson,” Grant replied, shedding his heavy black greatcoat and giving it to her. She was nearly smothered by the huge mound of wool. “I’m tall enough as it is.” The high-crowned hats that were currently fashionable made him look ridiculous, adding needless inches to his towering height until passersby stared openly.
    “Well, not wearing a hat hardly fools anyone into thinking you’re short,” she pointed out.
    Grant grinned and pinched her cheek, causing the housekeeper to gasp and scold him. Her reprimands, however, contained little heat—they both knew that of all the Runners, he was her