Home > Her Scottish Scoundrel (Diamonds in the Rough #7)(4)

Her Scottish Scoundrel (Diamonds in the Rough #7)(4)
Author: Sophie Barnes

Charlotte cleared her throat. “Gentlemen. I’m looking to employ a trustworthy individual who’s strong and capable of providing me with protection. If you would like to apply for this position, you may come speak with me at your convenience.”

Conscious of having all eyes upon her, Charlotte took a seat at the nearest table and pulled out a small notebook and pencil. Ten minutes later, after receiving a glass of decent wine from a barmaid, she was interviewing a skinny fellow who probably wouldn’t be able to fight off a knife-wielding thief no matter how eager he was to prove his worth.

Charlotte politely turned him away and he thanked her for her time.

“I’m afraid you’re not what I’m looking for,” Charlotte informed the next man who approached her – a mister Robbie Jones. He was a scruffy sort with one tooth missing. Charlotte almost feared the repercussion of being spotted with him more than she feared the danger of venturing out alone.

“’Ow’s that?” Mr. Jones asked. He scratched his ear until one finger disappeared inside it. “Ya said ya need protection and I’m big an’ strong. I’ll make sure no one even looks at ya wrong.”

Charlotte watched him retrieve his finger. He studied it for a moment and then proceeded to wipe it on his trousers. Mr. Jones clearly wouldn’t do, even if he was large enough to frighten away an assailant with nary one glance.

“As much as I appreciate that,” she said while thinking up some way in which to dismiss him without causing too much offense, “I’m not sure you would fare well amid high society.”

“’Igh society?”

“Well, yes. I might require your escort to the occasional soiree and ball.”

“Blimey.” He began fiddling with his other ear. “Don’t think I’d like that. Mingling with toffs aint one of my strengths.”

Charlotte did what she could to hide her amusement and breathed an inward sigh of relief. “I see.”

Mr. Jones gave a respectful nod. “Sorry to ’ave wasted ya time, miss.”

“Don’t be,” Charlotte assured him. He might be scruffy and he might not know not to pick his ears in public, but he was making an effort to be polite and that in itself deserved her appreciation. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Jones.”

He smiled broadly in response to her comment, made an awkward bow, and strode away. Another man soon took his place and then another and another. None fit the neat appearance she had in mind. Good lord, whatever had she been thinking to suppose an individual with the sense of style inherent to footmen would ever be found in a place such as this?

Prepared to declare defeat, Charlotte thanked the last man with whom she’d spoken and started gathering her things. Perhaps she could place an advertisement in the paper for an actual footman? Would such a man accept not being part of a household? Of not wearing livery and of simply meeting her when she requested his aid?

There was only one way to find out, she decided as she prepared to stand. But before she was able to get up out of her seat, a stout fellow dropped into the chair directly beside her and placed his hand on her thigh.

“Hello, luv.” His oily voice dripped with disturbing lewdness while his fingers curled into her flesh. “I hear you is lookin’ for some protection. Thought I’d come right over and offer me services.”

There was no question about the sort of services he hoped to provide her with, and since Charlotte knew a delayed reaction on her part would only make him bolder, she didn’t waste a single moment. Without thinking twice, she turned in her seat while slipping her hand discreetly inside her skirt pocket and retrieved her pistol. One second later, she had the barrel pressed up against the man’s ribs.

“You were saying?” she asked with deliberate sweetness.

The man, whom she now had a much better view of, looked like he was at least twice her age. With thinning hair already showing hints of grey, he had a wide face with a bulbous nose, hard eyes, and a mouth that had opened wide enough to reveal several blackened teeth.

“You can’t shoot me,” he hissed with contempt.

Without even blinking, Charlotte pulled back the hammer on her pistol. “Care to bet on that?”

“You’ll ’ang for murder.”

“My solicitor would disagree with you there.” She pressed the pistol more roughly against him. “Now please remove your hand from my person before you wind up dead.”

He gulped. “You is mad.”

“Quite,” she agreed. The madder he thought her the better since that made her unpredictable and far more dangerous than a woman who had no intention of causing him harm.

Scrambling out of his chair, the man almost stumbled to the floor in his haste to escape her proximity. He threw her a hasty backward glance as if to make sure she wouldn’t pursue him and ran out the door. Charlotte expelled a breath, allowed herself a moment to gather her wits, then disarmed her weapon and carefully returned it to her pocket.

Well, at least she had more fodder for her novels, even if the excursion itself had proven a waste of time. She stood, turned, and immediately froze at the sight of another man standing not too far away, his gaze fixed upon her with interest as he approached. Compared with everyone else she’d met that afternoon, however, this particular man showed promise. Tall, broad shouldered, and with the sort of lean body that spoke of an active lifestyle, his chiseled features, intelligent eyes, and perfectly curved mouth suggested he’d be handsome as sin once he got a good shave and a decent haircut.

Pleased with this discovery, Charlotte allowed a smile.

“How did ye…” His words trailed off as he gestured toward the door through which the other man had so hastily departed.

Her smile widened in response to his bafflement. She liked being able to surprise people on occasion – to not always be the perfectly turned out lady they all expected. “I never leave home without my pistol. Knowing I’m able to defend myself against questionable characters eases my mind.”

“So would keeping to safer parts of Town, ye ken,” he told her with an immediate scowl.

She tilted her head and proceeded to study him in greater detail. His height was truly impressive. Now that he was closer, she almost felt dwarfed by his much greater size. He was the sort of man who demanded attention, who’d easily instill a degree of wariness in others. And while he did speak with a Scottish burr that lent a gruffness to his voice, there was an unmistakable degree of charm to it.

Charlotte almost grinned. “Do you know. I think you’d be perfect.”

His eyes narrowed. “For what?”

“For the position I’m trying to fill.”

He crossed his arms in a show of defiance. “I already have a job.”

She leaned forward, more determined than ever to enlist his help now that she’d set her mind to it. A rich musky scent filled her nostrils, the appeal of it momentarily startling in this place where every other scent she’d encountered had more or less repelled her. Charlotte forced herself to ignore it so she could focus on tempting her quarry. “It pays exceedingly well. Five pounds per week.”

It was a large sum – huge in fact for what she required – considering the fifteen pound yearly salary indispensable servants received. She certainly hadn’t planned on offering anywhere near as much when she’d first arrived, but now that she’d found the man she wanted, she’d no intention of letting him walk away when she could afford to lure him with an attractive wage.

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