The Unquiet - J. D. Robb [51]
Nothing was going to happen, Chase was sure of that. Clearly Nesbitt was taking orders from someone and would not make a move again without further instructions. Chase considered whether one would prefer a hireling with a more independent spirit, one willing to think on his own to finish the job.
It’s what he would have done. But then, no one had ever praised him for following directions well. Even Gentleman Jackson had commented on that, and if there was one place where you wanted to learn fast, it was in a boxing ring.
Chase’s time would be better spent sleeping. He yawned. But he’d told Mrs. Chernov that someone would be on guard all night.
Chase wrapped the white silk scarf around his neck and kept to his task, watching and waiting.
He smiled, thinking about their odd meeting. Even stranger was his reaction to the woman as she ran into him. Even though he was sure she was running from danger, the bash on the head being proof positive, his body, his mind, even his heart had reacted instantly, not to the danger but to the feel of her in his arms.
He would have helped her no matter what, but in that instant he wanted to protect her, something entirely different from helping a lady in distress.
Before he had seen her face, her clear, direct gaze, her red lips, firm chin, he’d felt a connection with her that was about more than lust. Intimate and lasting, he felt it now as he looked up at the window of her flat and imagined her in bed asleep.
FOUR
Lydia slept better than she had expected, but still there was an ache or two from her unaccustomed run of the night before. She rose and stretched. Delphie had started the fire and the room was overly warm, as it was wont to be. This morning the heat was welcome.
With some curiosity, Lydia went to the window to see what kind of day it promised. And to see if her guard was still on duty. Indeed, there he was. But it was a different man from the one she had seen the night before. This one was taller and not as big, though one would never call him small. While she watched, she saw him raise his hand, holding a walking stick, to cover a yawn, and realized it was Mr. Chase himself.
Delphie bumped through the door from downstairs with the morning tray. Tea in a glass for Grandmama, coffee and one of Mr. Florencio’s rolls for Lydia.
“Delphie, take my roll and coffee to the gentleman outside, the one wearing a white scarf.”
“Missus?” Which was as close as Delphie ever came to saying, “Are you mad?”
“It’s the gentleman who rescued me last night,” Lydia explained. “He has been on guard and deserves some reward.”
“Oh yes, missus. Yes.” Delphie plunked down the heavy tray, wrapped up the bun, and with the cup and saucer in the other hand, hurried down and out the front door of the shop.
It was not at all an elegant presentation, but after a moment of uncertainty, the gentleman accepted both with a bow that Lydia knew would fluster Delphie more than his good looks.
Mr. Chase looked up at her window and raised the cup in salute. For her part, Lydia ignored the gesture but broke all known records for dressing quickly. Delphie returned to do her stays and ties, eager to report her encounter.
“He bowed to me.” Delphie’s awe was clear in her tone. The maid put her mind to Lydia’s stays and when she was finished, added one more thought.
“He’s handsome, too,” Delphie pronounced. “Even handsomer than Mr. C.”
Which is what she had always called Alexei, as if Chernov were as complicated a name as she’d ever heard. Never mind the places in England that were near impossible to pronounce without a guide.
The maid shook her head and lifted the smaller tray that held Grandmama’s tea, opening the door to her bedroom and disappearing inside.
Lydia started downstairs with more than her usual speed, then stopped abruptly, remembered suspicion suddenly complicating her gratitude. How could she have forgotten the possibility that Mr. Chase was the true scoundrel, the one who was after something