“I threaten to break a good many things. I don’t tolerate men mistreating women.”
“But you don’t even know me.”
“Acquaintanceship is not a requirement for my ensuring you’re not harassed.”
“I could be a right termagant.”
The mouth wasn’t smiling but the eyes were, and somehow that made him far more dangerous, more approachable, more charming.
“Wouldn’t matter.” He seemed to settle more comfortablyinto the straight-backed wooden chair as though it were the most plush cushioned armchair that existed in the world. “You don’t speak as though you come from the streets.”
“Neither do you.” He spoke as though he’d been born to the aristocracy. She’d heard that the family of bastards, in spite of their humble upbringing and scandalous backgrounds, had educated themselves in all things important and proper so they could move about within the upper echelons of Society and not be found lacking. And it seemed of late, most of them were moving easily about in that world. Except him. She couldn’t recall seeing him anywhere other than at a church for a wedding.
“I suspect we had a very different education. Did I have the right of it last night? You hail from Mayfair?”
“Why is it important that you know?”
“Why is it important that I not?”
She glanced around, made sure no one was signaling for her, wishing like the devil someone was, before bringing her attention back to him. If he was going to keep at it like water eroding stone, she might as well eliminate the mystery of it, so he’d leave her be. “I once lived in Mayfair, yes.”
His eyes narrowed slightly as though he was striving to make sense of what that meant. “Then you’re an aristocratic lady.”
“No.” Once, but no more. “You would be incorrect.”Three months ago you wouldn’t have been, but today you are. But then three months ago I wouldn’t have brought you scotch, we’d have never carried on a conversation, and I’d have been glad of it.Although she’d have only been glad of it because she wouldn’t have known how he had the power to look at her as though no one else existed in the world.
“It’s not often that I am.”
Was that his polite way of calling her a liar? “That’s an arrogant statement, and yet you didn’t sound particularlyarrogant while saying it. As a matter of fact, you sounded rather humble.”
Was she flirting? She didn’t think so. She no longer flirted with men. It only led to heartache.
“The truth comes with confidence; it doesn’t require arrogance.”
“You’re a philosopher, then.”
He shrugged. “I’d wager you were trained to have a place in that aristocratic world, and not as a servant, but as one who is served.”
“I won’t take that wager. I’ve had some education, yes.” The questions were becoming too pointed, too close to revealing the truth of her. “If you’ll excuse me, I have other customers.”
“I have a proposition for you.”
Oh, she did wish he hadn’t said that just as she was beginning to like him. “You and half the gentlemen here. I’m not interested.”
As she threw back those slender shoulders and marched away, he almost called out, “Who propositioned you?”
It seemed more words needed to be had with a few chaps.
With a sigh, taking a slow sip of his scotch, he admitted he could have handled that better. Probably should have eased into it a bit more, worded it a little differently. And how often were the blokes here referred to asgentlemen? Most were laborers, dockworkers, bricklayers—not that he found anything wrong with those occupations. He’d once been a dockworker himself.
But in Mayfair any man who crossed her path would have been a lord, a noble, a truegentleman. Referred to as such, treated as such. What the hell was she doing here?
It wasn’t for a lark. When Gillie had first opened the place, on occasion he’d helped out. The work was demanding. He preferred the docks. At least there he hadn’t been required to be polite to people upon whom he wanted to dump ale. Which might have been what prompted him to threaten Jimmy last night. Normally, he would have just told him to leave off and that would have been sufficient. But something about the quick flash of fear on her face when Jimmy had tumbled her onto his lap had set Beast’s back teeth on edge. He didn’t believe she was accustomed to the frequent roughness of this area of London. So his words had been accompanied with a warning.
After finishing off his scotch, he removed his watch from his waistcoat pocket, checked the time, and tucked it away. An hour before they closed. It was bloody cold out, and he intended to make sure the bloke who’d come for her last night came for her tonight.
As she appeared to be deliberately avoiding any reason to look in his direction, it took him a while to catch her attention and hold up his empty glass. While he’d been unable to stop looking at her.
Bloody hell, she was beautiful. But her attractiveness had little to do with her heart-shaped face, the sharp cut of her cheekbones, the delicate bridge of her small nose, or her kissable lips. Although when taken together they created a stunning creature.
