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and step off.”
    â€œI suggest you step off,” a stockier, round-faced man boomed back, stepping toward Lord Moreland. With riled aggression, he hit Lord Moreland in the shoulder with a solid thud. “We were here first, fancy boy, and if you think—”
    Lord Moreland snatched hold of the man by the lapels of his coat and with a violent thrust sent both the man and his hat flopping in full reverse toward the group of men pushing up the stairs. The clamoring crowd fell back with a slur of curses and shouts, buckling beneath the weight of the large man.
    Zosia cringed, thankful she hadn’t been at the receiving end of that.
    Lord Moreland stalked inside and slammed the door with a thunderous bang, bolting the latch. “Fancy boy,” he muttered aloud as if it had been the greatest insult he’d ever heard. He turned, sweeping into the foyer and demanded, “What the devil is going on?”
    Mr. Lawrence and the footman scrambled toward the door to ensure the entrance had in fact been bolted.
    Lord Moreland paused, apparently only now noticing her standing in the vast foyer. Dark, arched brows rose beneath the curved rim of his hat as enigmatic brown eyes swept over her. He captured her gaze and offered a cool, gentlemanly nod.
    Her heart ricocheted toward her head and down to her one foot, his presence prickling awareness across every last inch of her heated skin.
    He removed his top hat, scattering silky, straight auburn hair across his forehead, and intently scanned the foyer around them. “I heard screaming. Betweenthe crowd gathered outside and no one opening the door…is all as it should be?”
    His genuine concern and his earlier display of valiant brawn made her inwardly beam. More impressively, he wasn’t staring at her crutches. “Yes. Thank you. I was informed guards will be arriving shortly.” She eyed him. “Might I inquire as to why you are here, my lord? Did you come to deliver your card for matrimonial consideration, as well? If so, I may force you to go back outside, fancy boy, and stand in line with the rest of my admirers as punishment for avoiding me these past two weeks.”
    He snapped a gloved finger back toward the entrance. “All of those men are seeking your acquaintance?” he demanded in an exasperated tone. “With a view toward matrimony?”
    She grinned and leaned forward on her crutches, wondering if he was jealous. “Yes. And though I have no idea as to how they all came to be here at once, I find it rather endearing to know there are so many fine gentlemen in London capable of recognizing a woman of quality.” She stared him down tauntingly. “Unlike yourself.”
    He lowered his shaven chin against his knotted silk cravat. “Who are you?”
    She tsk ed. “That is rather rude. I suggest we retire into the drawing room if you seek an introduction.”
    He hesitated and gestured toward her crutcheswith his top hat. “Are you unwell? Did you twist an ankle?”
    The butler cleared his throat and turned away.
    Zosia glared at Mr. Lawrence, wishing she had the ability to smack him and dismiss him. The impudence of the man to openly mock what couldn’t be detected beneath the fullness of her gown.
    She scanned Lord Moreland’s lean but impressive physique, knowing she might not have the ability to dismiss the servants His Majesty had hired, but she could certainly intimidate them. “Lord Moreland?”
    He eyed her. “Yes?”
    â€œIf I were to ask you to toss my butler out into that crowd, would you? Not only did the man refuse to execute my orders, he also had the audacity to encourage the footman to assault me. That scream you earlier heard was me politely fending him off.”
    Lord Moreland’s husky features tightened. He swung his large frame toward the butler, who shrank back. “How about I give you a reason to tote your own set of crutches,