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Even more ironic was the fact that it had little to do with his original reason for charming her: to learn anything he could about whatever nebulous relationship she had with Franco Baricci.
Initially, he'd been overjoyed by his unexpected stroke of luck; coming upon Baricci's illegitimate daughter, finding out she was headed to—of all places—the very same destination as he: her crooked sire's gallery. Ashford's suspicions had soared to life, his experience telling him a coincidence of this magnitude could scarcely be deemed a coincidence at all.
Maybe he'd stumbled upon just the break he needed. Maybe he was finally going to be able to get to Baricci. Maybe he could use this naive young woman to gain evidence against her far more sophisticated sire.
He sure as hell intended to explore this path to see where it led.
Where it had led was to the fact that Noelle Bromleigh was a deft card player, an alluring beauty, and an extraordinary breath of fresh air.
She was also as guiltless as he. After careful observation, he was convinced of it.
Not that Ashford believed for a minute that her visit to the Franco Gallery was accidental. No, she had gone specifically to see Baricci, to conduct some unknown business with him. But what? And why? After eighteen years wholly devoid of contact, why was she suddenly so eager to see the bastard who'd given her life?
Lord knew she was better off without him.
Lord knew … but did Noelle?
Ashford's jaw tightened fractionally as he stared into the quietly-awakening London street. Noelle couldn't have an inkling what she was getting herself into, what becoming involved with Baricci could mean. She was utterly unaware of the dark world Baricci inhabited, the evil with which he dealt. Noelle was sheltered, loved, protected by her parents.
Her parents.
That brought Ashford's thoughts to another unresolved piece of the puzzle.
He knew for a fact that Eric Bromleigh had conducted a long-standing, thorough investigation of Baricci's life. And that the earl had managed to uncover what he surmised to be the entirety of Baricci's wrongdoings but was in reality just the visible layer of his seedy, underhanded life: his women and his aliases.
Ashford had dismissed Farrington's investigation as an attempt to protect his family. After all, Baricci had destroyed Liza Bromleigh, giving Farrington every reason to hate and distrust the man—and to ensure that Noelle was safe from his immoral clutches. Further, as time passed, it became increasingly clear that Farrington had no ulterior motives for delving into Baricci's life—even when he had the information he sought, the earl made no move to contact Baricci, be it for business or personal reasons.
No move to contact Baricci…
Abruptly, yesterday's events converged with Farrington's actions—and the purpose of Noelle's visit to the Franco Gallery clicked in Ashford's mind.
Farrington hadn't initiated the investigation of Baricci; his daughter had.
Quickly, Ashford reviewed the snatches of information Noelle had let slip in the carriage, combined them with her uneasy demeanor in the gallery—and came up with the answer he'd been searching for all day.
It made perfect sense. Noelle must have been pressing Farrington—for Lord knows how long—for details on the man who sired her. In response, he'd hired people to find her answers, a task that had taken years to accomplish. And Ashford would be willing to bet that Farrington had just recently shared his findings with Noelle. After which she'd immediately struck out on her own, gone in search of Baricci.
Probably to confront him.
It was the only explanation that fit.
It was also a daring act—one Ashford was convinced Lord Farrington would never condone, much less allow.
Would that stop Noelle?
Not a chance.
Despite the tension gripping him, Ashford's lips curved slightly as he contemplated the impossibly blunt, unorthodox beauty he'd spent yesterday with, a young woman who would act first and think later. She was indeed a fiery handful—every bit the tempest she'd described.
A tempest that inspired in him a curious combination of protectiveness and attraction, spawning a physical and mental challenge too provocative to resist. And that was just part of it. Coupled with how drawn to her he was, how intrigued by her quick mind and bold tongue, was the amazing realization that he simply liked her, liked being with her. Their hours on the railroad had flown by, punctuated by conversation and laughter, innuendos and banter—and he couldn't remember ever having enjoyed himself so much.
Not that he hadn't wanted to have her to himself. He had. Badly. Too badly. He couldn't let himself forget who and what she was: the Earl of Farrington's daughter—and a virgin.
He had to tread carefully, keep himself in check. This relationship could only go so far. He could indulge it—to a point. After that … well, there could be no after that. He simply wouldn't let the physical pull between them, however heated, get out of hand.
The truth was, he probably should stay away from her altogether. No matter how he sliced it, Noelle Bromleigh was indisputably forbidden fruit.
On the other hand, he never was one to resist a challenge, forbidden or not. And pursuing Noelle, spending time with her without crossing the fine line of propriety would be one hell of a challenge.
