Free Never Entice an Earl by Lily Dalton Page B

and the churning crowd seemed to disappear, leaving
     just the two of them for one crystalline moment in time. He looked so very fine with
     his cravat so perfectly tied, and his dark blond hair so neatly cut, somewhere between
     short and longish, the ideal frame for his broad cheekbones and astonishing gray eyes.
    “Thank you,” she shouted, though she knew he couldn’t hear her for the din of the
     room.
    The gleam in his gray eyes intensified, but with a different sort of appreciation
     than what she saw in the eyes of the degenerates crowded at her feet, one that didn’t
     send revulsion down her spine, but instead something…wonderful.
    “You’re welcome.” Or at least that’s what his mouth appeared to say. She couldn’t
     hear him, either.
    A large crash sounded from the direction of the entrance. A woman screamed. The music
     trailed off into a discordant snarl. An enormous man in a black suit and top hat appeared
     on the threshold. Patrons scrambled away from him, pushing and shoving.
    Bracing his legs wide, he bellowed, “Under His Majesty’s authority, this bawdy house
     is hereby closed for the crimes of lewdness and common nuisance.” Lifting both hands
     high he displayed what appeared to be a constable’s blazon and a piece of paper that
     could only be a warrant. “You are all under arrest.”
    A swarm of men rushed in behind him, wielding batons.
    Daphne stood paralyzed for a long moment. She? Daphne Bevington, under arrest?
    Like everyone else, she dashed for the door.
    Pulse racing, she leapt from the stage into a tumult of shoulders, hats, and feathers.
     After that, she had no choice in the path of her escape. The crowd pushed … jostled …and carried her to the street where a frigid rain pounded onto her skin and soaked
     her costume through. All she could think was that she’d left her cloak inside, but
     behind her came shouts and screams and glimpses of batons raised. She couldn’t go
     back. She ran for the hackney, praying the driver still waited, as she’d paid him
     handsomely to do.
    There, at the corner. He had waited. Thank God. His pale face peered over the roof
     from where he stood on his driver’s perch, wide-eyed and dismayed at the scene unfolding
     before him. She ran toward him, arms flailing, wanting nothing more than to be inside,
     safe and far away from this terrible place. She’d been such a fool! She would go to
     her grandfather tomorrow and beg on her knees for the money to pay Kate’s debt, and
     pretend that this night had never happened. She should never have come.
    “Hurry, girl.” The driver reached his hand to assist her up.
    “Thank you, sir,” she cried, almost in tears—
    A fierce tug pulled her backward, out of his grasp. Splash . Her teeth clicked at the sudden jolt of her buttocks against the cold pavement.
     It took a moment for her mind and vision to clear, to realize what had happened.
    Mr. Bynum, Cat, and the redhead crowded into the hackney. The vehicle swayed and creaked
     beneath their sudden weight.
    “You get out,” bellowed the old man, his hands raised to force them out. The horse,
     startled, danced in its harness and the vehicle rolled forward a few feet.
    “That’s my hackney.” Daphne leapt to her feet, and grasped the handle. “You can’t
     leave me here.”
    “Oh, let her in,” insisted the redhead.
    “There’s no more room,” Cat screeched, giving her a shove. The jewels on her mask
     sparkled darkly. The dark red rouge on her lips had smudged across her cheek. With
     another hard shove, she broke Daphne’s grip. A gun appeared in Mr. Bynum’s hand, and
     he pointed it at the old man’s head.
    “Drive,” he bellowed.
    “Oh, miss,” shouted the driver. “Forgive me. I’ve eight grandchildren to feed—”
    The vehicle clattered into the darkness. Mr. Bynum’s laughter echoed against the walls
     of the warehouse buildings.
    “Selfish cowards,” Daphne shouted after them, meaning Mr. Bynum and the