“An efficient fellow.”
“I hire only the best.”
Feeling the heat rising in her cheeks, she looked out the window. “Surely you’re not including me as I have yet to prove myself.”
“I thought you exemplary at pouring tea.”
Under different circumstances, she might have laughed. Instead, she gave him a woeful look. “I do wish you would take all this seriously.”
“I do, more so than I’m comfortable admitting. However, I wouldn’t have hired you if I hadn’t thought you capable of doing what I needed.”
“Yet here you are... observing.”
“Not for lack of faith in your abilities. But rather a fascination with your methods. They’re very much like striving to determine if an investment is worth the risk. Although the investment is a murderer.”
He was grateful she hadn’t declaredcomplete honestybecause he didn’t want to admit he feared losing her. He didn’t know what he’d expected striving to prove him innocent would entail—but certainly not skulking about in the dead of night or calling upon a stranger who might not wish to be called upon. The woman was taking risks for him. He was humbled by her actions and terrified of the consequences she might suffer. “I should hire a guard or two to travel with you in case your investigation leads you to the door of whomever did in Mallard, and he takes exception to your snooping about.”
“I’m fully capable of protecting myself.”
He raised both eyebrows at her before turning his attention to the window, because he didn’t want her to see how the fact that she knew the possibility existed that she would be in need of protection causedhim more worry. He should have been relieved that she understood the reality of the situation. Instead, it ratcheted up his apprehension. He should dismiss her. Leave his fate in the hands of Scotland Yard.
“I carry a small pistol in my reticule,” she admitted.
As though her being armed was supposed to reassure him? “And you would shoot a man?”
“Or a woman. I’d rather not, of course, but I wouldn’t shy away from doing it if the circumstances necessitated it. In addition, when I worked with Swindler, he taught me a few techniques to protect myself. One involves grabbing an opponent’s hand and leveraging his thumb in such a way that the pain fells him to his knees. It doesn’t require much strength and can be quite effective. I used it a few months ago on a fellow who attempted to steal my reticule.”
Someone accosted her? Her tone implied that she’d taken the attack in stride, simply a normal occurrence that needed to be dealt with. “Jesus. Why the devil don’t you have a chaperone?”
“You think my fifty-year-old aunt would be better suited to fending off ruffians than I am? And what of your female staff? Do they have a chaperone when they go to market?”
“I’m certain a footman accompanies them.”
“When they have free time and leave the safety of your residence, does a footman watch over them then? A working woman isn’t expected to have a chaperone.”
“Who makes these ridiculous arbitrary rules?” he grumbled.
She smiled softly as one did when confronted by a wayward child who was unable to see reason. “I likebeing able to come and go without constantly being watched. I love my aunt dearly, but she guarded me like a hawk, as though at any moment I was in danger of being spirited away. Even now, sometimes, I’ll sense someone watching me, someone she’s no doubt hired for her own peace of mind. I try not to resent it, just as I’m striving not to resent you being here.”
He thought she’d welcome his presence, his assistance. The woman was too independent by half. During the past three years, the women who had come to him had been unable to acquire on their own what they wanted—because of the law. He’d begun to view women as always needing help. They married for security. Here was a woman who tested the limits placed on her gender. He loved her independence as much as he despised it. “I won’t interfere.”
“See that you don’t.”
He didn’t accompany Daisy to the townhome in which Mrs. Mallard had disappeared the night before. But he was watching her. From across the street, while leaning against a lamppost, perusing a newspaper as though it wasn’t unusual for a man to be so enamored of the articles that he had to immediately stop to read what was happening in the world, couldn’t wait until he arrived at his home or place of business to examine what he’d just purchased from a passing paperboy.
After they’d disembarked two streets over, he’d instructed the coachman to traverse a route through the surrounding area that would periodically bring the carriage back around, so they wouldn’t have long to wait once she was ready to depart.
Rapping her knuckles on the door, she’d decided totake on the role of an overly inquisitive neighbor, one concerned about strange happenings in the middle of the night. Fretful, nonthreatening. Curious.
Her heart gave a tiny lurch when she heard the latch give. This was always the most exciting and terrifying part of her job. Not knowing what to expect from the person she was about to confront, hoping to gather the information she needed without giving herself away or raising someone’s ire.
The door began swinging open, only to stop when a man was partially revealed, shadows playing over his features, as though he feared being fully exposed or bursting into flames should the morning sunlight reach him. Something about him was familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him, which she found equally odd because he had a very unforgettable nose. It had obviously been broken at least once, possibly several times, and listed to the side, which gave his face a rather lopsided appearance. His hair—that which hadn’t deserted the top of his head—was a pale blond, nearly white. She was fairly certain the wrinkles at the corners of his brown eyes were not the result of laughing but of strife, because they cut deep and aged that gaunt face.
“Daisy, what are you doing here?” His hoarse voice was that of a man who’d spent years screaming.
She might have wondered at his occupation that had stolen the smooth timbre if she’d retained her ability to decipher matters. But his addressing her by name had stunned her. Where might their paths have crossed? Had he once worked as a servant in her aunt’s residence? In her uncle’s? Had she met him at the Fair and Spare the very first time she’d visited? Although living in this area of London indicated he couldn’t afford the club membership. However, he was immaculately dressed, his coat draping perfectly over his slender frame. “How do you know my name?”
“We met some years back. I doubt you remember. You were a mere child. Still, I would recognize you anywhere.”
