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CHAPTER2
William must have gone too long without speaking to a woman because his conversation with the little slip of a thing standing proudly before him was proving to be far more interesting than anything he’d done in ages.
She watched him shrewdly through the most interesting pair of navy-violet eyes he’d ever seen, looking as though she was prepared to bolt if he made even the slightest wrong move.
He would need to tread carefully, for he wanted her to remain . . . at least until he learned her name. She’d been so offended by his guesses, which brought a smile to his lips. He’d thought they were perfectly acceptable names.
“Well?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Care to tell me who I’ve spent the last quarter-hour speaking to?”
“My name is Pippa,” she said carefully. And then again with more confidence, “Pippa Sheffield.”
Pippa. That certainly did fit her better than any of the names he’d conjured. On second thought, William could not imagine a Sarah, Harriet, or an Emma climbing a tree to spy on her neighbors. Because bird-hunting excuses aside, William was positive she had been spying on them.
“Tell me, Pippa,” he said, casually stepping closer. “Do all young ladies in this part of Devon climb trees as deftly as you?”
“I would imagine not,” she said crisply, her accent brisk and refined. “Though perhaps they could if they practiced.”
William smiled. He liked her blunt, honest observation. He imagined her climbing trees all over the county to peek into her neighbors’ windows. “Have you had occasion to practice frequently?”
She opened her mouth, but then she seemed to consider her answer, and she took a decided step back. “It was a favorite pastime of mine as a child. I suppose I haven’t had the need to grow out of it yet.” The edge to her voice dangled a challenge over him like a fishing line—and he a trout—and William was tempted to bite. He wanted to give her reason to step toward him again.
“Are you planning to remain here long, Mr. Blakemore?” she asked before he could speak.
“That is yet to be determined.” He said no more, and while he could sense that Pippa wanted to inquire further, he was grateful she didn’t pursue the subject. He could not be honest with her about his situation, that was certain. And he had yet to devise a plan with Father, so he needed to be careful about what he revealed.
This peculiar woman was igniting his interest, but William could ill afford to make friends. It would have been wiser to ignore her after he’d noticed her in the tree. In his line of work, he could trust no one, and young women hiding, in trees or anywhere else, were certainly high on his list of people to be wary of.
Despite the impulse to dismiss Pippa as a possible threat, he would need to be watchful. Danger could lurk anywhere.
“Allow me to welcome you to the neighborhood,” she said, taking another delicate step back.
Did she realize she was walking the wrong way? He’d much prefer it if she ceased edging away from him as if he were a predator. Though he couldn’t blame her caution.
“I assume I shall be seeing you again?” she asked.
“If you live nearby, then yes. You will likely see much of me.”
“Oh, I do live—” She clamped her mouth closed. Her slightly tanned cheeks turned rosy, and William assumed she hadn’t meant to freely offer him any more information.
She was either a wise young woman, cautious when facing a strange man, or Ainsworth was already onto them, and she was his lackey. William and his companions had only arrived yesterday—and through the pouring rain, at that. The conditions had been less than ideal for traveling, but they had helped keep prying eyes off the Blakemores on their journey. Surely it was too soon for anyone to have guessed their whereabouts, let alone send a young woman to watch them.
William would need to keep an eye on her all the same. One could never be too careful.
And it was not because she seemed like just the sort of young woman he would enjoy keeping an eye on.
“May I escort you home?” he asked.
“No, that won’t be necessary. I shan’t take up any more of your time.” Dipping in a slight curtsy, Pippa turned away from him, and William noticed the dirt smeared over the side of her skirt from her shoe to her hip. Had she gotten in a fight with the tree? His heart had about flown from his chest when he’d startled her and she’d begun to fall, but this dirt didn’t appear to come from that mishap. There was no mud on the tree trunk.
Considering the many different ways this interesting woman could have dirtied her gown brought yet another smile unbidden to his lips.
“Shall I see you at church tomorrow?” Pippa asked, turning back and looking at him over her shoulder, narrowing her dark eyes.
Church? Was it safe? He would have to discuss it with Father later. He hadn’t planned on it, of course. He hadn’t gone to church since his mother was alive. “I think I’d prefer to leave you wondering.”
Pippa halted in the middle of the walkway and turned back to face him fully, her eyebrows drawn together. “Whatever for? You either intend to go, or you do not.”
“It’s only fair,” he pressed, unable to help himself. She certainly did not mince words, so he wouldn’t either. He’d enjoyed that faint blush, and the wicked part of him wanted to see just how red he could make her cheeks burn. “How else will I manage to keep you thinking about me long after we part?”
