Page 2 of Redemption of a Marquess

Hesston again lunged for her. Valan stepped between them. “You’re drunk, Hesston. Go home before you irritate the wrong person.”

“Like you?” he sneered.

Valan shrugged. “I am not the best shot in Edinburgh.”

“Damn right, you’re not,” he growled.

“I am more likely to set a runner on you,” he said.

Hesston’s eyes widened. “They hunt criminals. I have never committed a crime in my life.”

“That is a matter of perspective.”

A vicious glint lit Hesston’s eyes. “If that is so, then one might contend that you stepped outside the law on at least one occasion. Last I heard, marriage to an underage woman is against the law,” Hesston said.

Ah, the viscount had heard that Valan’s old nemesis had returned to Edinburgh just today. Gossip traveled fast when Society smelled blood.

Valan gave a bland smile. “Then I am fortunate not to have committed that crime.”

“You tried hard enough,” Hesston declared.

“Even I do not always succeed,” Valan remarked.

“You succeeded at winning your fortune in a card game,” he snarled. “That is highly illegal.”

“A friendly game of cards is never illegal,” Valan said, then added before he could reply, “The important point to remember, my dear viscount, is that runners give an ear to high-ranking peers.”

The man’s face twisted into a scowl. “You think well of yourself.”

Valan angled his head.” I am on excellent terms with Bow Street.”

Hesston took a step back. “You pay them well, is what you mean.” He sneered at the girl. “A bit of muslin isn’t worth this much trouble.”

“I am no bit of muslin,” she retorted.

Hesston turned, stumbled past a group of men, then hurried away.

Valan looked down at the young lady. “You cost me a great deal tonight.”

Her brow furrowed. “The cost of that waistcoat is a pittance for a man like you.”

He thought of the brown-haired beauty. “Money is not the only thing of worth in this world, child.”

“I am no’ a child.”

He arched a brow. “Pray tell, how old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“A nineteen-year-old girl who nearly got herself accosted by a rather nasty viscount.”

“Release me.” She yanked the wrist he still gripped.

He started when something pricked his wrist. Valan drew her hand upward. She yanked harder and nearby guests glanced their way. Valan offered them a chilly smile, then urged the girl back three paces nearer the alcove.

“I beg your pardon,” she began, then broke off when he tightened his grip.

He turned her hand over and forced her fingers apart. A modest diamond stick pin balanced halfway across her palm.