Tempted By the Night by Elizabeth Boyle Page B

she found.” He turned his face toward the shadows, and Hermione could see he was trembling. The quiet anguish in his words had stopped her, but this…this grief was something she hadn’t ever thought she’d see in the earl most of the ton regarded as a man only bent on pleasure and sport.
    “’Tisn’t your fault, milord,” Cappon muttered. “Never is. This is what happens.”
    “Not to my people. Not in my realm.”
    “Oh, aye, and how can just one man be held responsible for watchin’ all of London all the time? Ain’t possible. You’ll drive yourself madder still if you start worrying over every bit of muslin or urchin what gets nabbed.”
    “They’re my responsibility.”
    “They are that, but they also know better than to lurk about the shadows. We all learn that lesson early on when you grow up in the Dials. But still there’s somes that just don’t listen…or believe.”
    “Then let’s make it so they don’t have to,” Rockhurst said, rising up, his shoulders squaring.
    “God be with you, milord,” Cappon said as he turned the key, then used his great girth to shove the thick, heavy door open.
    Rockhurst shouldered the large leather bag and whistled to Rowan.
    But the dog just sat and stared at her.
    “I think your dog likes to watch,” Cappon laughed, for all they could see was the couple behind her. “I usually charge two quid for that.”
    “Take it out of my bill,” Rockhurst said with a laugh, whistling again, this time with a sharp urgent note to it.
    Rowan turned immediately, but before he loped off, he looked at Hermione once again, and she could have sworn the hound was saying, I’m not done with you.
    Once again, Hermione found herself caught in a choice, to continue following the earl or keep to the relative safety of Cappon’s establishment, but themoans of the whore behind her and her fear of being left stranded urged her forward.
    That, and Cappon’s haunting revelation.
    They found her…that is Sally found her…
    However they found this unfortunate girl, Hermione had no desire to end up in the same circumstances. For whatever reason, her gaze fixed on Rockhurst’s wide shoulders.
    Keep me safe, she asked in a silent plea as she stared at him. Then Hermione took a deep breath and added one more prayer.
    Or at the very least, save my gloves.
     
    Rockhurst stepped out into the alley, his nose sniffing the air. Eyes could be deceived, but the earl had learned early on that the nose was often the most reliable of the senses. Rowan edged past and took up his place in front. They both stood poised and waited for a few moments to let the world settle around them—sifting out the constant hum of London and gauging their surroundings.
    Above them, the rooms were lit, the light filtering through the gauzy curtains, giving the alleyway an ethereal glow amidst the shadows.
    The hair on the back of his neck rose, and he turned quickly, but there was nothing behind him but the now closed door to Cappon’s.
    He stared at the space between him and the door and waited—for he’d had the uncanny feeling all night that he was being followed. Rockhurst stilled and waited a few seconds longer, closing his eyes and letting hissenses sweep his surroundings, but still there was nothing distinguishable.
    Perhaps Cappon was right, he was going mad. No, make that madder, he mused as he stared at the empty space.
    Then it hit him. A hint of perfume. Not the cheap and sharp notes of Cappon’s favored fragrance, or those of his soiled doves, but the simple, wholesome hint of springtime worn by those wide-eyed does who pranced about Mayfair.
    He inhaled again, but this time all he got was a nose full of garbage and the sort of refuse that could turn even the most hardened stomachs.
    Oh, yes, he mused. Springtime in Seven Dials. He was mad. Apple blossoms, indeed!
    That didn’t stop him from looking once more at the steps and, still seeing nothing, got to the task at hand.
    No point in spoiling