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“I am alright. Really,” she assured him firmly.
“Really? Because it looks to me like you are worried about something, and it has nothing to do with what happened out on the street this morning,” he mused.
He had his hands on her waist, and felt her tense. It gave him all the answers he needed. He was now positive that she wasn’t being honest with him.
“Don’t be preposterous. Where I come from people don’t get mugged that’s all. It has not o
nly happened to me twice in one morning, but I also nearly got run over by that carriage. Is it any wonder that I am a little shaken?”
“No, it isn’t, Tahlia,” he replied calmly. “But I also know there is something you are not telling me.”
He knew from her defensiveness that he had touched on a raw nerve. He could push but suspected it wouldn’t get him anywhere. In fact, it might just put even more distance between them and he couldn’t afford for that to happen. He was now positive that she was keeping secrets, and they were dangerous ones. Until he could ascertain how much danger she was in while staying in the house he had to remain close to her. All he had to do was find a way to tell her that.
The sudden chiming of the clock on the mantle made him groan. He was already four hours late for a meeting with Barnaby. His morning’s work had already been lost, but it was too late to go now. Barnaby would have left the meeting place and moved on to somewhere else by now. At least here, in Tahlia’s house, Connor had a chance of making his morning count for something.
“Tahlia,” he prompted gently when Tahlia continued to stare out of the window in thoughtful silence.
“I can’t,” she protested.
“Can’t what?” He waited while she contemplated what to tell him.
On a personal note, he wanted her to object to his touching her, not least because he wanted her to be as affected by what they shared as he was. However, given the mystery that surrounded her right now, he suspected she didn’t want to allow him close in case he learned too much.
“I can’t give you the answers you want. Oh, I hate London and everyone in it,” she snapped suddenly.
Before he could stop her, she pushed away from his gentle hold and stalked across the room. Tears hovered on her lashes but she refused to allow them to fall. She couldn’t. Not now. Not just yet. She wanted to do that in private. Determined to keep her emotions to herself, she took refuge in the discontent that settled heavily over her shoulders.
Slumping into a chair before the fire, she turned her attention back to her tea. Her nose wrinkled when she took a sip. She slapped the cup down in annoyance that her tea was now cold. She was angry, at him, herself, and at everyone in London for being so foolish as to allow criminals to wander the streets. She was annoyed at Cecily for wandering off, and the muggers for targeting her. Her anger didn’t stop there, though. She was even annoyed with her uncle for placing her firmly in the quagmire she found herself in. In that moment she yearned to pack the meagre possessions she had brought with her, and head back to Rutland. She had money now. There was no financial need to sell the house straightaway. She could lock the place up and go home, and come back maybe in a few years to close it up completely.
As soon as she considered that possibility she dismissed it. In all conscience she knew she could never do it. Not only would the house fall to wreck and ruin but, given the recent burglaries hitting large houses in London at present, she knew this one would be targeted sooner or later, especially if it was empty. She had to sell it on. Then she could put London behind her once and for all, and hopefully forget that the wretched place ever existed.
If only Connor could be forgotten that easily, she thought morosely.
She strongly suspected that for as long as she lived she would never forget Connor Humphries. He was a part of her life now because of Joseph. She couldn’t ignore it.
She was painfully aware when he quietly crossed the room and took a seat opposite. Although he didn’t speak, the silence spoke louder than words. She was even annoyed at him for being so, well, so darned, well, nice. Calm. Controlled. Arrogant, yes, but also commandingly stern in a way that left her feeling protected, cosseted even.
With no answers forthcoming, she turned her attention to her most pressing problem now. Like how to get him out of the house without poking him out of the door with the end of a broom.
CHAPTER SIX
If there was one thing Connor had learned during his time working for the War Office, it was when to allow silence to unfold. In people who usually had something to hide, it brought about discomfort they couldn’t ignore. Even the most hardened criminals buckled beneath a steady stare, and an expectant silence. It certainly worked on Tahlia.
When Connor watched her sigh, huff, shift in her seat, and gaze at various objects around the room, a smile began to curve his lips. While he managed to stop it forming into a full grin, he couldn’t prevent his eyes from crinkling at the corners when the realisation sank in that her unease; her restless disquiet, was because of him.
Well, good, he mused thoughtfully as he watched her shift in her seat once more before she gave up altogether and, tellingly, began to pace around the room. He watched the steady sway of her hips whenever her back was turned, and eventually had to cross his legs to hide the evidence of his desire for her.
“Tell me what has been going on here, Tahlia,” Connor demanded quietly, eager to get her to stop pacing before he did something rash like kiss her again.
“Nothing,” she snapped.
“Don’t tell me those were ordinary, run-of-the-mill muggings because I don’t believe you.” Connor sighed when she didn’t speak. “How long have you had your maid?”
Tahlia spun around and glared at him. “Don’t blame Cecily for anything. She had nothing to do with what happened today, I promise.”
Judging from the ebullience of her reply, Connor knew he would have to battle to get her to consider any such notion. However, until Cecily could provide proof of her whereabouts he wasn’t going to dismiss the maid as being merely lost at the time of the attacks.
“So, you went to the solicitors, were given this key, and then what?”
