Read Online The Notorious Scoundrel by Alexandra Benedict - Free Book Online
Authors: Alexandra Benedict
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oysters. The robust shouts and pungent smells filled the wharf. She peered over myriad heads, searching for Edward’s tall figure. He wasn’t at the market, though. She had lost him.
Amy cursed under her breath. She treaded back toward her lodgings, determined to wait for the scoundrel there. As she traversed the narrow lanes, she passed the charity school for female foundlings.
The gloomy structure chilled her. She had survived her girlhood in a similar asylum. She preferred not to reflect upon those wretched days, though, and she skirted past the building…when lyrical laughter arrested her rushed movements.
Amy stilled, muscles pinched. She slowly looked over her shoulder at the charity school and spotted the back of a well-dressed lady as she entered a regal-looking vehicle. A white-gloved hand waved through the parted window at the children. The girls wished their benefactor cheerful good days in return before the carriage set off.
The warm figure soon approached her and knelt, and Amy sensed a pair of gloved hands squeeze and tickle her midriff.
She squealed with delight.
Amy stared after the vehicle, feeling dizzy. She sorted through the shadowed figures, the muddled sounds in her head…
“Watch it, girl!”
She stumbled as a bounder bumped into her backside, pitching her into another pedestrian, the missteps causing a calamity.
“Troublemaker!”
“Rioter!”
Amy girded her muscles, befuddled. “It was an accident.”
But the swelling mob wasn’t so sympathetic, their expressions black. She fisted her fingers in anticipation of a brawl, but a hard hand gripped her wrist and jerked her roughly away from the rankled crowd.
“What the devil do you think you’re doing, Amy?”
She was rattled, breathless. “I-I was looking for you.”
Edward frowned. “Why?”
“I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“I don’t need you to protect me,” he said firmly. “ You , on the other hand, need protecting.” He ushered her toward her lodgings. “You almost started a rampage.”
“It wasn’t my intent,” she snapped. “I saw…”
“What did you see?”
The vehicle. The laughter. The gloved hand. She had remembered…but the vision vanished.
Amy mumbled, “Never mind.”
The moment they entered the apartment again, she wondered, “What happened with the thugs?”
“I lost sight of them in the crowd,” he returned in a surly manner.
She sighed. “Damn fools! Why won’t they give over and trouble some other, more sociable barmaid?”
“I doubt there’s any as pretty as you.”
The man’s gruff voice had softened at the expression, making her cheeks warm. She looked at the floor and observed his booted feet approaching her. The muscles in her midriff tightened, and she sensed the blood pulse in her ears.
“I think you’re right, Amy.”
He tipped her chin up with his forefinger, meeting her gaze…that smoldering gaze; it singed her flesh, unsettled her nerves.
“I think I should stay with you for a little while more—until my memory returns.”
He was staying to protect her. It was there in his eyes, the gentlemanly impulse. Funny he should be such a gentleman now, without his memory. If the scoundrel ever regained his thoughts and former bad habits…
In truth, she didn’t mind him staying awhile longer at the apartment with her, and so long as he stayed away from the club and the vicious queen, there wasn’t any harm in keeping him for a short time more, she supposed.
Edward sniffed…then sniffed again.
Indignant, she took a step back, glowering, but she quickly smelled the burning oats and kicked up her heels. “Oh no!”
“Everything all right in there?”
She removed the bubbling pot from the stove, the oatmeal ruined. She would have to begin anew, though she hoped the wasted grains weren’t an ill omen, that she wasn’t making a mistake in letting the seaman reside with her.
The coal fire in the hearth warmed Edward’s toes as he sat,
Amy cursed under her breath. She treaded back toward her lodgings, determined to wait for the scoundrel there. As she traversed the narrow lanes, she passed the charity school for female foundlings.
The gloomy structure chilled her. She had survived her girlhood in a similar asylum. She preferred not to reflect upon those wretched days, though, and she skirted past the building…when lyrical laughter arrested her rushed movements.
Amy stilled, muscles pinched. She slowly looked over her shoulder at the charity school and spotted the back of a well-dressed lady as she entered a regal-looking vehicle. A white-gloved hand waved through the parted window at the children. The girls wished their benefactor cheerful good days in return before the carriage set off.
The warm figure soon approached her and knelt, and Amy sensed a pair of gloved hands squeeze and tickle her midriff.
She squealed with delight.
Amy stared after the vehicle, feeling dizzy. She sorted through the shadowed figures, the muddled sounds in her head…
“Watch it, girl!”
She stumbled as a bounder bumped into her backside, pitching her into another pedestrian, the missteps causing a calamity.
“Troublemaker!”
“Rioter!”
Amy girded her muscles, befuddled. “It was an accident.”
But the swelling mob wasn’t so sympathetic, their expressions black. She fisted her fingers in anticipation of a brawl, but a hard hand gripped her wrist and jerked her roughly away from the rankled crowd.
“What the devil do you think you’re doing, Amy?”
She was rattled, breathless. “I-I was looking for you.”
Edward frowned. “Why?”
“I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“I don’t need you to protect me,” he said firmly. “ You , on the other hand, need protecting.” He ushered her toward her lodgings. “You almost started a rampage.”
“It wasn’t my intent,” she snapped. “I saw…”
“What did you see?”
The vehicle. The laughter. The gloved hand. She had remembered…but the vision vanished.
Amy mumbled, “Never mind.”
The moment they entered the apartment again, she wondered, “What happened with the thugs?”
“I lost sight of them in the crowd,” he returned in a surly manner.
She sighed. “Damn fools! Why won’t they give over and trouble some other, more sociable barmaid?”
“I doubt there’s any as pretty as you.”
The man’s gruff voice had softened at the expression, making her cheeks warm. She looked at the floor and observed his booted feet approaching her. The muscles in her midriff tightened, and she sensed the blood pulse in her ears.
“I think you’re right, Amy.”
He tipped her chin up with his forefinger, meeting her gaze…that smoldering gaze; it singed her flesh, unsettled her nerves.
“I think I should stay with you for a little while more—until my memory returns.”
He was staying to protect her. It was there in his eyes, the gentlemanly impulse. Funny he should be such a gentleman now, without his memory. If the scoundrel ever regained his thoughts and former bad habits…
In truth, she didn’t mind him staying awhile longer at the apartment with her, and so long as he stayed away from the club and the vicious queen, there wasn’t any harm in keeping him for a short time more, she supposed.
Edward sniffed…then sniffed again.
Indignant, she took a step back, glowering, but she quickly smelled the burning oats and kicked up her heels. “Oh no!”
“Everything all right in there?”
She removed the bubbling pot from the stove, the oatmeal ruined. She would have to begin anew, though she hoped the wasted grains weren’t an ill omen, that she wasn’t making a mistake in letting the seaman reside with her.
The coal fire in the hearth warmed Edward’s toes as he sat,
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