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Authors: Loretta Chase
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her strong and clever and fearless.
She had not been made to be any man's plaything. And she most certainly would not risk all she'd worked for, merely because a lout of a Prince Charming had raised a flurry in her unruly heart.
Three nights after she'd nearly run down Vere and Bertie, Lady Grendel tried to break Adolphus Crenshaw's skull in front of Crockford's club in St. James's Street.
Inside, Vere and Bertie joined the crowd at the window at the moment she took hold of Crenshaw's neckcloth and shoved him back against a lamppost.
With a grim sense of déjà vu, Vere hurried out of the club, advanced upon her, and firmly grasped her waist. Startled, she let go of the cravat, and Vere lifted her up off the pavement and set her back down well out of reach of the gasping Loretta Chase - The Last Hellion
Crenshaw.
She tried the elbow-in-the-gut trick again, but Vere managed to dodge it while still keeping a firm grip on her. He wasn't prepared for the boot heel crunching down on his instep, though he should have been, but he didn't let go then, either, even while pain shafted up his leg.
He grabbed her nailing arms and dragged her away, out of hearing of the group of men gathering at Crockford's entrance.
She struggled with him the whole way, and he struggled with a strong temptation to throw her into the street where an oncoming hackney could do London a favor and crush her under its wheels. Instead, Vere hailed the vehicle.
When it halted before them, he told her, "You can get in, or I can throw you in.
Take your pick."
She muttered something under her breath that sounded like the synonym for
"rectum," but when he pulled the door open, she climbed in quickly enough.
Which was too bad, because he wouldn't have minded in the least hurrying her with a slap to her rump.
"Where do you live?" he asked when she'd flung herself onto the seat.
"Bedlam, where else?"
He jumped into the hackney and gave her a hard shake. "Where do you live, curse you?"
She mentioned a few other body parts he resembled before grudgingly admitting to a lair in Frith Street, Soho.
Vere relayed the direction to the driver, then settled onto the seat with her, where he made sure to take up more than his share of room.
After they'd traveled a good while in angry silence, she let out an impatient huff.
Loretta Chase - The Last Hellion
"Lud, what a fuss you make," she said.
"A fuss?" he echoed, taken aback. "You were the one—"
"I wasn't going to hurt Crenshaw," she said. "I was only trying to make him listen. I had to get his full attention first."
For a moment, Vere could only stare at her in blank disbelief.
"There was no need to make a scene—and in St. James's, no less," she said. "But I suppose it's no use telling you. Everyone knows you delight in making a spectacle of yourself. You've been brawling from one end of England to the other for this last year at least. Sooner or later you were bound to bring your special brand of pandemonium back to London. Still, I did not think it would be this soon. It's only three months since your infamous carriage race."
He found his tongue. "I know what you're trying to do—"
"You haven't the least idea," she said. "But you are not interested in determining the facts of a situation before interfering. You jump to your own wild conclusions and leap in. This is the second time you've come in my way and caused needless complications and delay."
Vere knew what she was doing. The best defense is a good offense; this was one of his own modes of operation. He was not about to let her veer him off course.
"Let me explain something to you, Miss Gentleman Jackson Grenville," he said.
"You can't rampage about London pummeling every fellow who crosses your path. So far you've been lucky, but one of these days you're going to try it with a man who hits back—"
"Perhaps I will," she cut in haughtily. "I don't see what business it is of yours."
"I make it my business," he said through clenched
She had not been made to be any man's plaything. And she most certainly would not risk all she'd worked for, merely because a lout of a Prince Charming had raised a flurry in her unruly heart.
Three nights after she'd nearly run down Vere and Bertie, Lady Grendel tried to break Adolphus Crenshaw's skull in front of Crockford's club in St. James's Street.
Inside, Vere and Bertie joined the crowd at the window at the moment she took hold of Crenshaw's neckcloth and shoved him back against a lamppost.
With a grim sense of déjà vu, Vere hurried out of the club, advanced upon her, and firmly grasped her waist. Startled, she let go of the cravat, and Vere lifted her up off the pavement and set her back down well out of reach of the gasping Loretta Chase - The Last Hellion
Crenshaw.
She tried the elbow-in-the-gut trick again, but Vere managed to dodge it while still keeping a firm grip on her. He wasn't prepared for the boot heel crunching down on his instep, though he should have been, but he didn't let go then, either, even while pain shafted up his leg.
He grabbed her nailing arms and dragged her away, out of hearing of the group of men gathering at Crockford's entrance.
She struggled with him the whole way, and he struggled with a strong temptation to throw her into the street where an oncoming hackney could do London a favor and crush her under its wheels. Instead, Vere hailed the vehicle.
When it halted before them, he told her, "You can get in, or I can throw you in.
Take your pick."
She muttered something under her breath that sounded like the synonym for
"rectum," but when he pulled the door open, she climbed in quickly enough.
Which was too bad, because he wouldn't have minded in the least hurrying her with a slap to her rump.
"Where do you live?" he asked when she'd flung herself onto the seat.
"Bedlam, where else?"
He jumped into the hackney and gave her a hard shake. "Where do you live, curse you?"
She mentioned a few other body parts he resembled before grudgingly admitting to a lair in Frith Street, Soho.
Vere relayed the direction to the driver, then settled onto the seat with her, where he made sure to take up more than his share of room.
After they'd traveled a good while in angry silence, she let out an impatient huff.
Loretta Chase - The Last Hellion
"Lud, what a fuss you make," she said.
"A fuss?" he echoed, taken aback. "You were the one—"
"I wasn't going to hurt Crenshaw," she said. "I was only trying to make him listen. I had to get his full attention first."
For a moment, Vere could only stare at her in blank disbelief.
"There was no need to make a scene—and in St. James's, no less," she said. "But I suppose it's no use telling you. Everyone knows you delight in making a spectacle of yourself. You've been brawling from one end of England to the other for this last year at least. Sooner or later you were bound to bring your special brand of pandemonium back to London. Still, I did not think it would be this soon. It's only three months since your infamous carriage race."
He found his tongue. "I know what you're trying to do—"
"You haven't the least idea," she said. "But you are not interested in determining the facts of a situation before interfering. You jump to your own wild conclusions and leap in. This is the second time you've come in my way and caused needless complications and delay."
Vere knew what she was doing. The best defense is a good offense; this was one of his own modes of operation. He was not about to let her veer him off course.
"Let me explain something to you, Miss Gentleman Jackson Grenville," he said.
"You can't rampage about London pummeling every fellow who crosses your path. So far you've been lucky, but one of these days you're going to try it with a man who hits back—"
"Perhaps I will," she cut in haughtily. "I don't see what business it is of yours."
"I make it my business," he said through clenched
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