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eleven

Rafe shifted his weight from one hipbone to the other. They were in the dark carriage now, Chenoweth guiding them smoothly back toward Berkeley Square. Soon, it would be as if tonight had never happened. He and Miss St. Quinton would go on their respective paths—in truth this time.

He hadn’t held her in anticipation of some great, transformative change in their relationship. He had comforted her because he wanted to, because she needed it, and she owed him nothing. He scraped his teeth over his lower lip.

“Do you travel to the naval hospital often?”

She must be trying to make conversation after so much silence. Her silhouette was dark in the corner opposite him, the drawn curtains not betraying a hint of her features.

“My business partner and I go quite regularly,” he said, the words bringing many unpleasant realities back to him. His and Alfie’s quarrel, his own deception, what awaited him when the sun rose.

“Ah. At night, of course,” she said. “Doubtless that’s when you get to properly view the Painted Hall.”

“It is.” He smiled a little, but she didn’t say anything else, and his mouth eased back into limpness. He pulled his lip between his teeth again.

“I apologize. I didn’t wish to do it, you know. Blackmail you.” The last two words came out a touch more strained than the rest.

“If I’d been gentleman enough to accept your request of a favor, you wouldn’t have had to.” He didn’t want her to feel badly. He wasn’t even sore about it anymore, not really. It was done.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He heard her movement more than saw it, the rustling of rearranged skirts. “You had no possible reason to indulge such a reckless request. We were perfect strangers.”

Were. It wasn’t an intentional distinction. She was exhausted, still riding out the effects of intoxication. A slip of the tongue.

“Though I am sorry I won’t be returning. Not for any ship, but for Barnard. You saw the way those men were pestering him, didn’t you?”

“I’m afraid I did.”

“Dreadful creatures.” She exhaled loudly. “I hope he’s getting on well in spite of them.”

“Your parents wouldn’t agree to take you?” He bloody well knew the answer, though, didn’t he? But he couldn’t shake the feeling—curse how light and anxious it rattled in his chest—that she was playing at something.

“Not a chance.”

The carriage rolled over a rough patch in the street, jostling its inhabitants and making the gold curtain tassels shiver. Rafe crossed his foot over his knee. “I would offer for you to accompany me and Alf, if it weren’t for—”

“Oh no,” she said quickly. “I would never impose.”

Stillness settled again. His and Alfie’s trips weren’t like what she’d experienced a few days earlier. They didn’t ride in nice carriages and walk in sunlit halls, making conversation. They went when half of Greenwich slept, and the other half awakened with raucous intent. Greenwich Geese was what the newspapers called the pensioners, so black was their reputation when they left the hospital’s gates and took to the nearby alehouses and gaming hells.

“It wouldn’t be like last time, when you had my threats hanging over your head,” Miss St. Quinton said. “I’m not foolish enough to think you’d choose to have me along.”

“I consider the experience to have been beneficial to me, on the whole.”

She waited a moment before replying. “You do?”

“Yes. The very fact that you heard me and Crofton speaking was an apt reminder—I need to be far more careful about my conduct if I’m to have any success in society.”

“Yes.” Her silk skirts crunched as she arranged them. “Yes, of course. To win Miss Penney’s hand.”

The carriage turned and slowed. It was a sharp sway that Rafe had felt Chenoweth make thousands of times on their returns to Berkeley Square. He knew what it meant: their time was up.

“Unless we contrived to arrange more visits,” he said.

“You’re asking me to blackmail you again?” Her voice was high.

“No, of course not.” He wet his lips. The carriage began to slow. “I only meant we might could have an arrangement. An understanding.”

She was very quiet. He would have loved to rip the curtains off so that he might read her expression.