Reckless Rules (Brambridge Novel 4) by Pearl Darling Page A

hot flush beginning to rise just below the nape of her neck. Her coachman sat facing forwards, hands clutching at his reins, ostensibly not listening, but the occasional twitch of his ears belying the fact. He could hardly not listen, given that the silly contraption was an open-topped carriage. She rued the day that she had bought it.
    She drew back her shoulders and sat, twitching her elevated skirts away from Bill’s large boots. “Let me remind you, Bill.”
    “Thank you.”
    “Thank you for what?”
    “You used my real name for once. I don’t believe you’ve called me that since last summer.”
    Victoria swallowed. She didn’t want to be reminded about last summer. “Let me remind you, Mr. Standish. You are the one who entered my barouche without my say so, intimidated my coachman—” she paused as Bill laughed—“and asked questions which you believe you already know the answer to.” She glared at him as he continued to guffaw. “Might I ask whether or not I am really necessary to all of this, and if not, I will go back into the building and wait until you leave.”
    Bill cocked his head and stared at her. Involuntarily, Victoria’s hand lifted itself from her lap, itching to trace the squareness of his jaw. But what about those caramel eyes? By Minerva those eyes! Gritting her teeth, she buried her hand back into the folds of her skirt and glanced away.
    “That will not be necessary.” Bill ran a hand through his hair.
    “Why not? As far as I can see, you should be the one leaving the coach, but instead I am offering to leave it for you.” Victoria frowned. “What are you doing here anyway?”
    “I was passing,” Bill said with no more elaboration. “I thought you might be able to give me a ride back to Mayfair.” He smiled lazily. “You can still do that.”
    Victoria gasped at his daring. “You think that I will give you a lift back after what you have insinuated?”
    “I am sure that you will give me a ride back. After all, your coachman has agreed not to leave without me. Isn’t that right, Oswald?”
    The coachman nodded with a grimace at Victoria. Bill knew the coachman’s name? Victoria only knew it because Carruthers her butler had told her. The man was positively mute most of the time. He had also been generally loyal. She cursed all males to hell and back.
    “Why don’t you sit back, Victoria, and let Oswald take you home in comfort.” It was almost as if Bill couldn’t resist the afterthought. “After all, you do have lovely shoes and a carriage to ride around in. It wouldn’t do not to use them.”
    Victoria opened her mouth to retort but stopped. It wasn’t worth it. Resigned, she sat back in her seat. If anyone saw them in the barouche together she would just say that he had forced his way into the carriage like the jumped up man that he was. It wasn’t far off the truth, and it was something the ton would love to believe. Unfortunately it was very hard for Victoria to believe that Bill was at all jumped up. He might have been a smith before his property inheritance brought him to the attention of the ton, but Victoria could attest to the fact that even before then Bill had acted like a gentleman. It seemed it was just recently that he had become more jaded in his behavior. Certainly last summer…
    No, she wasn’t going to think about that. She had no illusions that she had been the one to leave that behind. It was her choice. He needed to accept that. She didn’t need him as much as she needed other things.
    “Oswald,” Victoria called softly. The coachman winced. But the power that Bill had exerted obviously still held sway. “Do take me home. I presume that Mr. Standish has already told you where we might drop him off?”
    The coachman nodded and, clicking his tongue, shook out the reins. The all white horses set off at a sharp trot. The barouche proceeded in silence through the city and along the banks of the Thames as Victoria stared over Bill’s shoulder,