She couldn’t move.
He leaned forward until she could count each freckle gracing his shockingly pale face.
Which she did, because staring at his nose was preferable to meeting his gaze and feeling like he had cracked open her skull and was rifling around inside her head.
Fourteen freckles. Three moles. One faint scar above his lip.
And his suit! Up close, it was even more remarkable. The stitches were so even. Her fingers itched to inspect the construction, but to analyze another professional’s work while it was being worn would have been rude.
“Such compliance,” Lord Grayson whispered. “You will suit well, my dear. For that, I will return part of what was lost.” Then he cleared her throat and continued to speak in an entirely different, familiar voice. “Did I not leave a lasting impression?”
She inhaled so quickly that she was momentarily dizzy.
It couldn’t have been.
But when she reluctantly met his gaze again, the truth slapped her in the face.
The thief from the market had been Lord Grayson.
She wrenched her hands out of his grip. He’d assaulted her, stolen from her, embarrassed her in front of a merchant, and had had the gall to wear the item he’d lifted around his neck as a final insult, as if daring her to accuse him, a member of the House of Lords, of a criminal act.
Well, he would not get his way. She’d already mourned the loss of Mrs. Julien’s gift. If he wanted it, then he could keep it—as long as he paid his mistress’s bills.
She inhaled deeply, plastered a wide smile over her face, and took a step backward. “The scarf suits you, my lord. Now, you must excuse me, while I see to Miss Griffith.” Then she turned and hurried to where Alyssa and Miss Griffith were engaged in lively gossip about the neighboring baker’s attractive son.
But instead of leaving like a gentleman, Lord Grayson followed Kitty into the dressing room and stood beside the mirrors facing his mistress with his hands behind his back.
“He likes to watch,” Miss Griffith said. “I wouldn’t bother trying to get him to leave. He can be remarkably stubborn.”
Lord Grayson said nothing, but he smiled.
Kitty rubbed her suddenly moist palms on her skirt, then gathered her measuring tapes. His presence was entirely inappropriate, even scandalous, but she could not afford to offend him. There were hundreds of dressmakers in London who would have squealed in delight to have a lord even walk through the doors of their shops. She would have to find her own way of dealing with his eccentricities.
Unfortunately, he proved far more distracting than she’d expected. Every time she turned, he was staring at her, his eyes—brown again?—seeming to never blink. He was as still as a statue, but far more menacing.
God help me, she thought.
Chapter Four
This was goingto be fun.
Miss Carter glanced over her shoulder, met Cordon’s gaze, then blushed.
Was she considering how he would pay for the bounty of garments Miss Griffith had ordered? Or was she thinking about how much she’d enjoyed his touch? He desperately hoped it was the latter. When he’d focused his attention on her, she’d blushed so fiercely, he’d been tempted to whisper he didn’t bite.
It would have been a lie.
He closed his eyes as the tart aroma of ripe cherries wreathed around him and made his fangs throb. In his long existence, he’d only met a handful of humans with such a powerful scent to their blood. All of them had tasted as good as they’d smelled.
She was exactly what he needed to make the most of his last days.
He was so distracted by his growing hunger that he barely noticed Miss Griffith scowling, shaking her head, and pointing at him. The actress was always engaging in dramatics. Her screeching was entirely different from the quiet but stern reprisal he’d received from Miss Carter when he’d revealed he’d stolen her scarf.
He’d come to the shop intending to soothe Miss Griffith’s ruffled feathers, but now that he’d held Miss Carter in his arms a second time, there was no doubt in his mind he would bedismissing Miss Griffith by the end of the day. He couldn’t imagine spending another minute in the unpleasant actress’s presence, especially after witnessing her treat Miss Carter so rudely.
“My lord?”
He reluctantly looked at Miss Carter’s assistant, standing in front of him, holding a sheer bit of red fabric. “What do you think of this magenta organza, my lord?”
