“No.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “No, I do not believe I did.”
Gideon held her gaze evenly, though he knew damn well he was stepping onto perilously thin ice.
“You may organize your little society. You may investigate. You may hold lessons and keep watch from inside the ballroom, identifying problems so that someone else can take action, if it pleases you.” His tone sharpened slightly. “But you will no longer confront these men yourself.”
For one stunned moment, she simply stared at him. And then hurt flickered across her face so quickly he nearly missed it.
Which was somehow worse than anger.
“Gideon—”
“No.”
The word came harder now. Final.
He saw the exact instant she realized he meant it.
Her cheeks flushed hot with outrage. “You knew what this society was when you agreed to help us.”
“I knew what you intended,” he corrected grimly. “But I did not have the information then that I do now.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake?—”
“You could get hurt.”
“I won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“And any woman could get hurt walking through Hyde Park in the morning!” she snapped back. “That does not mean we all lock ourselves indoors forever.”
“It is why ladies have companions.”
“And see how well that’s worked out for them! Have you talked with Dash, then? Is this coming from him?”
That landed precisely where she intended.
Gideon’s jaw tightened. “It’s not?—”
“You cannot stop me.”
“I can.”
The words fell between them like flint striking stone.
Her eyes widened slightly.
Then narrowed.
“I will,” he said.
Good God.
Steam practically rose from her as she stood there glaring at him beneath the trees, her chest lifting sharply with each breath. She looked genuinely ready to strike him.
Furious.
And, absurdly, some deeply reckless part of him admired her for it.
