My Fair Marchioness (Scandalous Affairs Book 3) by Christi Caldwell (book recommendations for young adults txt) 📕

And then one of the women straightened and sailed forward.

And Julia realized just how wrong she had been about them being triplets. This woman was different from the others. With a regal bearing suited for a queen, she had an aura of authority and power that clung to her person like a tangible trait that could be seen and touched.

This was the duchess.

Upon her approach, Julia’s spine reflexively drew straighter.

The blonde-haired woman reached Julia and then stopped. Shrewd eyes smarter than a fox’s narrowed and then moved in a methodical glide over Julia’s features.

Tell her. Just blurt out why you’ve come and make your apologies… and go find someplace to hide, where you can be safe.

At worst, she’d be turned out fast and hard on her arse, which might not be the worst of things, as that would ensure her speediest departure from this place.

At best, the woman might take mercy and offer some coin for coming, which between that and the purse given her by the gentleman would provide Julia cover from having to hawk her flowers at Covent Garden for time enough to remain hidden.

But that wouldn’t last forever. Ultimately, she’d have to return to peddling her wares.

They’re going to find you anyway.

Which is what you deserve. Adairia is dead because of you.

Through the powerful peer’s scrutiny, she made herself go as still as possible. Odd how, just a short while ago, she’d attempted to make herself motionless in much the same way, feeling that same breathless sense of terror and anticipation. Both the last man she’d faced and this powerful peeress before her had the power to end Julia. Only, this one was draped in striking orange silk and dripping with diamond and rubies.

The woman was flanked by the pair of noblewomen, though the duchess had still not spoken. They set themselves up like ladies-in-waiting to the queen, dutifully and obsequiously silent as they also took up the study of Julia.

They slid their eyes up and down her person. Their scrutiny landed on the quality cloak she wore that showed its wear. Ultimately, they raised their eyes in an unnerving synchrony and settled that probing examination upon her face.

Reflexively, she huddled in the velvet-lined garment, seeking warmth, seeking a place to hide.

Suddenly, the duchess moved closer. Stepping away from the group, she closed the remaining distance between them.

From the corner of her eye, Julia caught movement as another figure joined the gathering.

The man was as big and as finely muscled as the greatest warriors who sparred at Savage’s fight club. His angular features were arranged in a mask that marked him as hardened and cynical as any man of the streets. Only, his golden strands, loosely arranged, gave him the look of an angel.

Julia drew back, reeling as recognition set in.

She gasped. “You.” Her savior from the streets. That one moment of hope when someone had come to her aid.

“She recognizes Harris,” Lady Cavendish whispered.

Except, she must have imagined that moment on the streets between them, for this emotionless stranger bore no resemblance to that gentleman. His cerulean blue eyes narrowed. Ice dripped from his gaze, colder than any winter’s night she’d been forced to work while cloakless. She couldn’t suppress another little shiver.

“Of course she does! How many times did she come round when Harris was here?” the duchess asked the room at large.

Those words registered, and she forced her gaze away from the gentleman. “No. I… He… looked familiar,” she finished weakly. Clearing her throat, she reached inside her bag and fished out the pendant Adairia had squirreled away. She made to press the cherished piece into the duchess’ hand.

The gentleman lunged forward.

Another gasp exploded from Julia’s lips, and her entire body tensed, her muscles coiling tight as she eyed the path around him.

Her flight was cut off by the unlikeliest savior.

The duchess slid herself between Julia and the fierce man and quelled him with a look. “Harris, step aside.” There was an exasperated quality to her voice.

“Your Grace,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I said step aside, Harris,” Her Grace snapped in a tone that brooked no room for being gainsaid.

Still, the man—Harris—revealed a greater obstinacy, glowering darkly at Julia.

“Do you truly believe the girl has come to do me harm?”

The girl…

Julia hadn’t been a girl in a long time.

Mayhap forever. Children of the streets weren’t ever really born innocent. They came into the world hungry and crying for help… that never came.

“Listen to your godmother, Harris,” one of the ladies flanking the duchess advised.

So he was the lady’s godson.

She eyed him warily.

He was protective of the duchess. He’d not tolerate one such as Julia darkening this household.

More than ever, she needed to leave. That much was true, and it couldn’t have been any clearer than now with the cynical stranger watching her every move.

Broad shoulders tense, the gentleman gave Julia another frosty once-over and then stepped aside.

“You needn’t worry about him, dear,” one of the ladies murmured, jerking Julia’s attention away from the menacing figure, who looked ready to take Julia apart should she make one wrong move. “He’s as gentle as they come.”

The man who’d tenderly brushed the dirt and small rocks from her cheek on that London street? Yes. This frosty figure who eyed her with the suspicion he should? Far less so.

Avoiding his eyes, Julia stepped forward once more and gave that precious necklace Adairia had so loved over to the duchess.

The regal lady, stared at the piece for a long while, and then she drew in a quick, noisy breath. She exhaled slowly through her nose as though any show of emotion were alien to her, and she sought to suppress that hint of weakness.

It was a surprising connection