If He's Noble (Wherlocke #7)
Hannah Howell
Chapter One
Spring, Western England, 1791
“Sir Bened Vaughn.” Bened grinned, savoring the sound of the words. “May I assist you, Sir Bened? Would you like some wine, Sir Bened?” He laughed softly. “That will never grow old.”
Bened rode deeper into the woods, deciding to take the shortest route to the village where he planned to rest for the night. If he had known that all he had to do was take a bullet for some spoiled, inept heir to a title to get his own honors, he would have been leaping in front of the fools years ago. Even the few times he had been hired to watch over some young gentry man, he had never considered the possibility that he could end up with more than just a very decent wage for the work. Then again, the previous gentry lads he had watched over had not been as dim-witted or reckless as this last one. Young Lord Percival Dunstan, an earl’s only heir, should never be allowed to leave his ancestral lands again.
Over the last few years of doing such work, he had also become a very wealthy man, or wealthy enough in his eyes and most of his family’s. Now, with this latest largesse, he could settle somewhere, stop making a living chasing foolish young gentlemen around and trying to keep them alive. It would please his mother beyond words. After he took that bullet, a wound that had kept him bedridden for a few weeks, she had decried his choice of work loudly and consistently.
“Smudge! Where are you, you obstinate beastie?”
Bened reined to a halt and stared in the direction of that angry feminine voice. The accent was definitely that of a well-born woman. What was some gentry lass doing deep in the forest with night coming on fast? Aside from making a lot of noise, he thought, as he heard a loud thrashing around in bushes followed by a faintly shocking litany of curses that would make a stable boy proud.
He sensed no threat so patiently waited for whoever was stomping through the woods calling for a horse, the same speckled gray mare he could see calmly grazing several yards away to his left. When a small, bedraggled woman stumbled out of the shadows of the thick trees, Bened actually caught his breath, surprised by the sight of her as well as his reaction. His heartbeat picked up its pace. Something it had never done at the sight of a woman. Certainly not for one like her. She was not the type of woman who usually caught his interest or attention.
She was short, delicate of build, yet shapely in a way that would please any man. Her hair was a mass of long, thick blond curls now cluttered with twigs and leaves. A look of angry frustration did nothing to dim the innocent beauty of her heart-shaped face. The flush of anger coloring her cheeks actually looked good on her fair skin. She was the perfect example of a gentle-bred Englishwoman except for the pistol she held aimed at his heart.
The pistol looked too big for her small, long-fingered hand but that hand did not tremble. Bened still experienced no sense of a true threat from her; saw no dangerous enemy before him. He supposed it made sense for the woman to have a pistol while running around in the woods and to point it at some stranger she met. It was, in truth, the only indication that she had recognized the precarious position she was in. He frowned at how fiercely she squinted at him and realized her eyesight might not be very keen.
“Do you intend to use that?” he asked as he very carefully dismounted.
“Do not move.”
“I mean you no harm, m’lady.”
“How do you know I am a lady?”
Bened bit back a smile as she growled softly and rolled her eyes.
“That was not what I meant to say,” she grumbled. “I meant how did you know who I am?”
“I do not. I but assumed your rank because of how you speak and the fine quality of your clothing. I am Sir Bened Vaughn.” He stepped closer to her.
“You are moving again.”
“I know.” He took one swift, large step and snatched the pistol from her hand.
“I told you to stop moving!”
“And I told you that I mean you no harm but I do prefer not having a pistol pointed at me.”
“Fine. I quite understand that but I need you to hold still. Considering your size, I suspect you have large, booted feet and I have lost my spectacles around here somewhere. I would rather you did not find them by stomping on them.”
Suppressing a sigh, Bened stepped even closer, ignoring how she tensed, plucked the spectacles caught in the button loop of her coat, and gently put them on her. They made her dark blue eyes look even bigger. She was adorable, he thought, as she blushed and arranged her spectacles as she obviously preferred on her small straight nose. Adorable did not usually stir his interest but it appeared to be making an exception for her.
“Thank you for finding them,” she said in a prim voice. “Where were they?”