Chapter Five #2
Jonathan slid his gaze to the woman sitting on the bed with her arms wrapped around her dog. A pang of sadness stabbed his heart. What if the only creature on Earth that thought she was special, other than his maid, was an undernourished mutt?
“Good night, sir. Good night, Miss Blue. Good night, Floppy.” Diana bobbed another curtsy, then left him alone in a bedchamber with the pretty stranger.
Surely there was no reason to be concerned for Blue’s reputation since he’d found her on the street.
Besides, as lovely as she was, he had no intention of seducing her.
He might be a rakehell, but he would not tup a woman he’d been unofficially tasked with protecting—especially less than an hour after she smelled like feces—the latter part of the sentiment being the most critical part for a ladies’ gent such as himself.
Blue pulled the counterpane up to her neck, which was unexpected. The chit was modest for a gamin.
He slid a chair from beside the hearth to her bedside, then sat. “I thought we should talk so that we don’t have any misunderstandings.”
Her long lashes fluttered.
“Damnations,” he accidentally murmured. In his defense, he was exhausted, and he had tippled quite a bit. Besides, he couldn’t help himself because she looked more like an innocent princess than a pauper.
Rubbing his chin, Jonathan tried to recall what he wanted to say.
Ah, yes. He’d come to her room in the middle of the night to tell her that she couldn’t stay for more than a few days.
He was a stupid, stupid man. Why bother when she couldn’t understand him? A wise man would say goodnight, leave her room, and deal with the problem after he’d slept and pulled his head out of his arse.
Since he didn’t have a wise bone in his body, he rested his calf over his opposite thigh, then declared, “Blue, I had a devil of a day.”
She hiked the counterpane up to her chin and nibbled on her lip with those perfect teeth.
Well, that had been bloody insensitive of him. He, at least, had a warm house and food.
“Do you know what Celeste had the nerve to say to me tonight? Celeste is the woman I was with earlier,” he blabbered, as if that mattered to the confused woman staring at him with eyes as wide and blue as an ocean.
“She said she thinks I’m more sensitive and thoughtful than I want the world to know.
Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous?
” He scoffed. “And then when I said I wasn’t interested in sleeping with her tonight, she said she was going to send a missive to Griffendale.
He was probably in bed with two chits five minutes after leaving The Purple Rabbit.
Maybe three. He likes his orgies. That is, if he could tear himself away from Roseanna and her flying fists tonight. ”
Blue’s long lashes fluttered like feathers in the wind. Women would kill for those lashes. Hell, men would sell their souls to have those thick lashes tickle their thighs.
He balked. Any thought about this unfortunate waif of a woman pleasuring him was damn deplorable. He refocused on his story.
“Celeste asked me if I cared. Do you want to know the insane part? I actually didn’t care.” So why in the hell was he talking about it?
Because you are a snowflake with a prodigious sense of self-importance.
And in his not-so-humble opinion, more handsome than Griffendale.
Sure, Griffendale was the size of a Titan, and had that red hair the ladies loved, but Jonathan was the charming bloke with the easy laugh and devil-may-care smile.
“Celeste can tup whoever she wants. It’s not like we have a commitment. I dare say, I’m not cut out for such things. I suppose someday I should think about an heir, but currently, I—”
Blue’s pale skin turned scarlet. Frantically shaking her head, she moved with the speed of a panther. Before he knew what was happening, she was beside him, the pad of her floral-scented finger pressed to his lips, shushing him.
He swallowed the rest of his words as his lips involuntarily puckered.
She withdrew her hand quickly and stepped back, almost as if touching him had shocked her. Her finger sure as hell had sent some sort of thunderbolt through him.
Unfortunately, his idiotic blathering was so pathetic that he’d managed to annoy an impoverished chit who’d been living in filth and had no idea what he was saying.
“Forgive me for rambling at this late hour.” He stood. “Blue, I hope you are happy here. Good night, Floppy.”
Neither Blue nor Floppy responded. She was staring at him as if he had stars shooting out of his nostrils, and the mutt was stretched out on the bed, snoring. So much for his being charming and handsome.
His shame be damned. Jonathan strutted from the room and down the hall.
Once he was alone in his chamber, his resolve faltered.
He dropped into his chair and berated himself for disclosing feelings he should have shoved deep.
Blue was just so easy to talk to. With her, he didn’t have to hide his insecurities behind false bravado.
She also doesn’t interrupt you when you talk. There was that. As well as the whisky he’d practically chugged.
Blast and bugger his eyes. He hadn’t told her this was temporary.
As he was pouring himself another drink, an idea hit him. “Bloody brilliant, old chap,” he congratulated himself. Tomorrow afternoon, Blue was visiting The Silk Knuckles Saloon.
“Hear. Hear.” Jonathan raised his glass in a mock toast. His pugilist against Griffendale’s pugilist. “Damn bloody fun.” And no one would question why he’d dragged a filthy woman home.
Perhaps his day hadn’t been a complete failure.