Free Rules for a Lady (A Lady's Lessons, Book 1) by Jade Lee Page A

bruises on her forearm where the cutthroat had restrained her.
    He glared at those dark splotches as though they were to blame for the fear still pumping through his body. Good God, when he thought of what might have happened if he had not heard her climbing down the trellis... Thank heaven the library was situated just below her window. She had been quiet slipping down the wall, but there were enough soft scratches for him to go investigate with his pistol.
    "Are you quite sure you are unhurt?" he asked for perhaps the fifth time.
    "I am fine, my lord. Really, I cannot see what the fuss is about. Tom is safe. I am safe. You have a marvelous right hook, and it is late. Can we not just go to bed?"
    He whipped around, nearly sputtering as the last of his fear translated to anger. "No, we cannot just go to bed! You promised to behave as a lady, and yet not twenty-four hours later, I find you climbing out the window to apprehend a cutthroat nearly twice your size!"
    "I could not very well let him have Tom."
    "Why did you not call for me? Your lungs are certainly capable of it."
    Amanda glowered at him for that cutting remark, but it did not deter her. "I could not go find you because he might have escaped. If I screamed, it would only alert him, and he would disappear that much faster."
    "So you chose to confront him yourself, barefoot and weaponless?"
    She bit her lip and looked away, a puzzled frown on her face. "In my experience, bullies back down when confronted. And failing that, a few well-placed punches have always served me well."
    "And you have a lot of experience with London bullies who prey off of young boys and run thieving rings?"
    A faint tinge of red colored her cheeks. "Uh, no. London does seem to grow a particularly nasty form of bully. He seemed remarkably impervious to my jabs."
    Stephen felt his blood run cold with shock. "You punched him?"
    "Oh, yes. Repeatedly, but he only sneered at me. That is why I wish you to teach me how to fight." She looked up at him, her green eyes wide and hopeful.
    He reached for his brandy and swallowed it in one gulp. Then he swiftly opened his desk, drew out a few sheets of foolscap, a pen, and ink, and shoved them forward to his odd ward.
    "My lord?"
    "Write this down, Amanda. In large print so that it will be the first thing you see in the morning and the last thing you read before closing your eyes at night."
    "But—"
    "Write the following at the top: Rules for a Lady." He glared down at her until she obediently scratched the appropriate words. "Number one. A lady does not run barefoot after cutthroats."
    "But slippers were too unsafe on the trellis."
    "Write!"
    She hastily set his words to paper. "Does not run barefoot after cutthroats," she murmured.
    "Number two. A lady does not climb up or down trellises." He paused, waiting for her to catch up to him. "Number three. A lady does not punch people."
    She glanced up. "Even when they are villainous brutes?"
    "A lady screams or calls for help so a sufficient number of men can come and knock out the villainous brute."
    "Seems remarkably inefficient to me," she commented. "Especially when I could do it just as well." She glanced up, her mouth turned down into a distinct pout. "Or rather, I could if someone would teach me how."
    Stephen groaned. "Number four! A lady does not brawl!"
    "I thought that was number three."
    "You seem to need it twice."
    She sighed and continued to write.
    "Number five. A lady does not ride on the top of a stage."
    "You never forget anything, do you?"
    "Some things are etched upon my memory," he said dryly. "Especially since it occurred only yesterday."
    She shrugged and quickly wrote the words. Then, when she finished, she glanced up, her face set in an expression of long-suffering patience. "Is that all?"
    "For the moment. Though I am sure I will find occasion to add to your list."
    "No doubt," she commented, her voice as dry as his. As she sanded the page, Stephen could not help but stare at her.