She took another deep breath and straightened away from him, forced herself to move away. "Thank you, Caleb. I don't know what would have happened if—"
"The man was an idiot. It's over and you're safe. That's all that matters." He flicked a glance at the figure crumpled against the wall, then settled a hand protectively at her waist and started leading her away. Behind them, she heard the blond man groan and begin to move in the grass, but she didn't think he would follow. The murderous look in Caleb's eyes had warned what would happen if he did.
Caleb stopped in a spot out of sight behind a hedgerow and turned her to face him. He caught her chin to examine the beard scratches on her cheek, then took out a handkerchief and wiped away a smudge of dirt beneath her ear. With a softly muttered curse, he stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket and she realized he was still angry.
"I can't believe you went off by yourself that way. You know the sort of men who frequent places like this. What the hell were you thinking?"
She swallowed, tried not to be intimidated by the hard look in his eyes now directed at her. "I was looking for Jimmy. I wanted to make certain everything was set for tomorrow's race. I knew I had made a mistake the moment I saw the man on the path but by then it was too late."
His features didn't soften. "You're still shaking, dammit. I would think in your line of work, you'd be used to dealing with a man's unwanted advances."
He was speaking to Vermillion, but it was Lee who had nearly been ravished—mistake or not. Her chin went up. She hoped it didn't tremble. "Sleeping with one's lover is scarcely the same as being forced to the will of some low-moraled gutter rat. I should think even a man like you would understand that."
She turned away from him, trying not to think what had almost happened, determined not to let him see how upset she really was. She started hurrying along the hedgerow, desperate for a moment to compose herself, to become Vermillion again, but the sound of Caleb's boots, pounding through the grass behind her, told her she wasn't going to escape.
Lee whirled to face him and he must have noticed how pale she was, for he hesitated only an instant before he pulled her into his arms.
"I'm sorry, dammit. When I saw you struggling with that big blond oaf, something inside me just snapped." She felt his chin on the top of her head. "Howie told me you'd gone off to look for Jimmy. When he showed me which way you went, I was afraid you were in for trouble." He held her away from him. "Don't ever do that again, you hear me?"
Lee looked up, caught his fierce black scowl, and began to smile. She was his employer, the woman who paid his wages. Only Caleb Tanner would have the cheek to give her orders. And yet she found his concern oddly endearing.
His scowl went even blacker. "You think it's funny? You were manhandled and very nearly raped and you think it's funny?"
She shook her head, fighting a grin. "I don't think it is the least bit funny. I do, however, find your audacity amusing—considering I am the one who is supposed to be giving the orders. And I am extremely touched by your concern. Thank you again, Caleb. I shall not forget what you did for me today. And I will remember to be more careful in the future."
The scowl slid away, but the worry remained. "This isn't a place for a woman alone, Vermillion."
The smile she wore softened. "Lee," she said to him gently. "My friends call me Lee." Then she turned and walked away.
The day of the Gold Cup arrived and Vermillion, along with her aunt and several carriages filled with gaily dressed members of their party, left the house and headed for the racecourse. Though a bright sun beat down on the row of coaches lining the course, a stiff wind rattled the flags and banners set out along the distance the horses were set to run.
Seated in the carriage today, next to Colonel Wingate, Vermillion watched the colorful spectacle and the jockeys milling about in the bright silks of their owners' stable: the scarlet and blue of the Earl of Winston, the impressive green and gold that signified the Duke of Chester, the familiar purple-and-white silk of the Earl of Rotham.
Vermillion could see the countess in a coach farther down, seated across from the earl, their attendance together done occasionally for the sake of propriety. Next to Vermillion, across from her aunt, Colonel Wingate leaned toward her.
"It's nearly time, dear one. With your permission, I'd like to place a wager in your name." The colonel looked splendid in the full regimental uniform of the Life Guards, gold epaulets sparkling on his scarlet coat. "I've spoken to your aunt," he said, smoothing his black mustache. "If Noir wins the race, I intend to host a party tonight in celebration."
She smiled. "That would be lovely, Colonel." Sometime over the past few days, she had eliminated Wingate as a candidate for protector, but in typical military fashion, the colonel refused to concede the battle.
"And the wager?" he pressed.
"I should be pleased to accept." Wingate was a favorite of Aunt Gabby's, a close chum of Lord Claymont's since boarding school. Perhaps that was the reason Aunt Gabby had spoken on the colonel's behalf in regard to his suit as her protector.
"The man is a well-respected officer, darling. Oliver is intelligent and kind, if a bit stuffy at times. And you can see the man adores you."
He adored the notion of bedding her, Vermillion thought, besting men years younger and thereby proving his virility. But she was no longer interested in the colonel and she didn't think that would change. Like the horserace soon to start, she had narrowed the field to Mondale and Nash, and as her birthday neared, it was a neck and neck drive to the finish.
Wingate's aide, Lieutenant Oxley, spoke up as the colonel rose to leave. "Shall I take that for you, Colonel? The betting post is just there, beyond the trees." The lieutenant, a young man in his twenties with sandy hair and hazel eyes, also wore his very impressive scarlet uniform. Though the lieutenant wasn't particularly good-looking, there was a sweet sort of shyness about him that somehow made him attractive.
"Thank you, Lieutenant." Wingate handed him a pouch of coins and instructions on how much of a wager to place for each of them.
Oxley departed and Vermillion fidgeted on the seat, eager for the race to begin.
Caleb Tanner appeared at the edge of her vision, walking toward her with the same erect bearing as the colonel, a fact she had noticed before. Beside him, a shorter man in a dark gray tailcoat and light gray trousers tried to match Caleb's long-legged strides.
Both men stopped in front of her and the grim look on Caleb's face put her on alert. "I'm sorry to bother you, Miss Durant, but this is Constable Shaw. He's here on a matter of some importance."
He was a lean-faced man beneath the high beaver hat he removed and clutched in one hand, his features tight and drawn. She whipped her eyes back to Caleb for some sign of why the man had come, but his expression remained unreadable and suddenly she knew.
Her insides drew into a painful knot and her hands started shaking. Lee rose unsteadily to her feet, praying she was wrong. "If you all will excuse me…"
"What is it, darling?" Aunt Gabby asked worriedly.
"I-I'm not yet certain."
The colonel stood up beside her. "I shall accompany you, dearest. We'll discover what this is about."
Lee stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, Colonel, but I would prefer to speak to the constable in private."
Wingate flicked a glance at Gabriella, who simply nodded, accustomed to her niece's independence, having encouraged it for as long as Lee could recall.
Wingate made a stiff inclination of his head. "As you wish, my dear."
Turning away from him, Lee descended the carriage stairs and walked to where Caleb and Constable Shaw stood waiting beneath the shade of a tree far enough away so they wouldn't be overheard. It occurred to her that she should send Caleb away, as she had done the colonel, but her heart was beating with fear and she wanted him to stay.