Midnight Pleasures With a Scoundrel Read Free

companions tried to get to their feet, her protector made short work of landing two quick punches that returned both to the ground.
    “Stay put until we leave,” her protector ordered, before holding out his hand to her. “Let’s go, shall we?”
    If he meant her harm, she thought, he had no reason to take her out of here. While the excuse was flimsy, she found herself nodding. She’d had quite enough of this place, and knew that finding Rockberry now was beyond the scope of her meager skills of detection. She took a step toward her rescuer, then remembered—
    “My reticule. One of them took it.”
    With his foot, he rolled Bulbous over, retrieved her reticule, and halted to stare at the handle of the dagger poking out.
    “For protection,” she muttered, taking her reticule and closing it over the dagger.
    “Little good it did you. Come along. Stay close. I’ll hire a hansom, see you safely home.”
    She had no choice except to let him draw her in and hold her upright, because she realized that she was trembling from the ordeal now that it was over. How could she have been so foolish as to believe she could protect herself in this place by simply not accepting what anyone might offer?
    “Have you a name?” he finally asked quietly.
    “Eleanor Watkins,” she said without thinking, and then wondered if she should have provided a false name. She’d given so much thought to her plans, and here they were becoming unraveled.
    “What were you doing wandering the gardens this time of night, Miss Watkins?”
    “I fear I got lost.” She peered up at him, unable to determine if he believed her. “It seems, sir, that I should know the name of the man who rescued me.”
    “James Swindler.”
    On King’s Road they found a hansom waiting by the curb. Leaning over, he opened the door and handed her up. “What instructions shall I give the driver?” he asked. Reluctantly, she gave him the address for her lodgings. He called out the information and handed coins up to the driver.
    “Take care in the future, Miss Watkins. London can be a very dangerous place for a woman alone.”
    Before she could reply, the driver set the vehicle into motion. Glancing back, she saw Mr. Swindler still standing in the street. Large and foreboding, becoming lost to the night, much like the man she’d glimpsed following her.
    If he was Rockberry’s man, why had he let her go? And if he wasn’t, why was he following her?

    “Her name is Eleanor Watkins.”
    “Elisabeth’s sister. I should have guessed. There is an uncanny resemblance.”
    James Swindler didn’t turn to acknowledge the quiet muttering from the shadowed corner following his pronouncement of the name of the woman he’d encountered at Cremorne Gardens—after spying on her for two days now.
    Swindler’s superior, Sir David Mitchum, sat behind the desk in front of which Swindler stood. As the flame in the lamp was low, failing to cast enough light to reach the corners, Swindler assumed he was to pretend he wasn’t aware that another person inhabited the room. That the man smelled of sandalwood, rich tobacco, and nervous sweat made it a bit difficult for him to blend in with the surroundings. The fact that he’d spoken—apparently surprised by the information that Swindler had imparted—added to the ludicrousness of trying to pretend that Swindler and Sir David were alone in the room.
    Unlike the man in the corner, Swindler had the uncanny knack of blending in wherever necessary. Still, Swindler gave no indication that he was aware of the other’s presence. He could pretend with the best of them. Although he found it inconceivable that the man would believe his identity was a secret, especially as Swindler’s investigation of the woman had begun at his lordship’s residence. He suspected the Marquess of Rockberry was a conceited buffoon.
    “What more have you managed to learn about the woman?” Sir David asked. After sending the woman on her way, Swindler had