Read Online Utterly Devoted by Regina Scott - Free Book Online Page B

wearing raw. When she gasped in surprise, he grinned, and she realized he had been sucking in his lips to appear toothless as well.
    “Give a poor bloke a shilling for vittles, milady?” he whined, holding out his hat.
    She pushed it away. “Stop that at once!”
    “Now, now, Miss,” scolded an older gentleman just passing. “We must be patient with those less fortunate.” He dropped a penny in Jareth’s hat and continued on.
    “Go’ bless yer, guv,” Jareth called after him.
    “You are impossible,” Eloise declared. “You have failed, sir. Take yourself off this minute.”
    “On the contrary,” he replied. “I intend to continue the length of the street. Press on, my dear.”
    “I refuse to have you following me like this!”
    He shook his head. “You must. You promised: no paradoxes. I cannot follow you down the street if you refuse to lead.”
    She glared at him. Around her, people continued about their lives, dropping coins in Jareth’s hat, casting her curious glances. Now she was the object of scorn. She could not allow him to get the best of her. She faced forward, resolute.
    “Unclean!” she cried. “Clear the street! Typhus!”
    People paled, cried out, and scuttled away from them as fast as they could. She waved her hands and set off at a sharp pace. “Typhus! Yellow fever! Make way!”
    Behind her she heard Jareth curse as he tried to keep up.
    By the time she reached Piccadilly, she was nearly out of breath and the area around them was nearly empty of passersby. Turning, she waited while Jareth waddled up to her. He was sweating from the effort, the moisture making his blackened face more disreputable until he looked the villain she named him. Yet he was grinning.
    “Clever girl. Here.” He held out his top hat as he climbed gingerly to his feet. He could not quite hide the grimace at the pain the movement caused him. Glancing down, she saw blood soaking the edges of his torn trousers.
    Guilt assailed her. “You’re hurt.”
    He seemed to notice the wound for the first time and shrugged. “Nothing serious. And the price is small if it brings me closer to your forgiveness.”
    She swallowed and pushed his hat back at him.
    He waved it away. “Keep it. You must know a good charity. Only tell me I passed this test.”
    “You passed,” she acknowledged as he tucked in his shirt. “Though I question who feels the more humbled at the moment.”
    His smile was wry. “I doubt you could surpass me there. I will own that your test gave me more than a moment’s pause.”
    “Yet you turned it into a game,” she protested with reluctant admiration.
    He spread his hands. “What would you have me do? Gnash my teeth and tear my clothes?”
    She glanced pointedly at his oozing knee. He chuckled. “Very well. You achieved a partial victory. Look on the bright side. You have more opportunities to torment me. Now, if you don’t mind, I prefer to return home and tend to my leg.”
    He bowed, then turned to go. Though he tried to hide it, she could see he was limping. Pride warred with guilt. She reached out a hand.
    “Jareth, Mr. Darby, wait.”
    He looked her askance.
    “My carriage waits around the corner. Please let me see you home.”
    She thought he might refuse, but after a moment’s hesitation he nodded. She led the way.
     

Chapter Eight
     
    Where does Lord Watkin find such condemning servants? Jareth wondered as he climbed stiffly into the lacquered Watkin carriage behind Eloise. The butler had been bad enough but the coachman was worse. He looked rail thin in the dark livery of the household, and his sharp blue eyes glared at Jareth as if the fellow suspected him of bloodying his knee just to wrangle a ride.
    The truth was that the blasted knee throbbed, and Jareth wasn’t sure he could have made it home on his own. As it was, he refused to let Eloise take him to his ugly little rooming house. He’d have her drop him at the Fenton, which wasn’t too far. He could only hope he