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She should have looked a mess—unkempt and wayward, in need of a looking glass and a washbasin. After all, in all his time knowing Adelaide Frampton—watching Adelaide Frampton in Mayfair ballrooms and on South Bank barges, he’d never seen her out of control.
She should have looked all wrong.
Instead, she looked extremely right. She looked like she belonged here, in this tavern full of thieves.
It didn’t help that she was smiling at him, as though she held a lifetime of secrets. Which of course she did,because no matter her outward appearance, Adelaide Frampton remained one step ahead of everyone, all the time.
Not him, though. Not then. “I won.”
She took her time, returning her spectacles to her nose before tilting her head. “Did you?”
“It was a race. And you just arrived.”
“Did I?”
He didn’t like the way it seemed as though she was humoring him. “You weren’t here when I entered.”
“Wasn’t I?” she asked.
“I would have noticed you.” Something shifted in her eyes, the bright, teasing warmth in them going dark and rich, making him want to explore it.
“Mmm,” she said, her smile turning secret as she turned to the owner of the establishment. She pushed her hood back, letting it fall to her shoulders, drawing his attention to her cap once more. To what it hid. “What’s he owe you?”
“The ale,” Gwen said, lifting her chin in the direction of the pint glass. “And a meal.”
Adelaide nodded and extracted a purse from beneath her cloak.
Clayborn immediately protested. “No. I can’t take money from—” The words stopped as he watched her open the leather pouch. Thefamiliarleather pouch. Her long, nimble fingers dipped inside to extract a pound note.
“That should cover it. And the same for me.”
It should cover meals and pints for the entire place, but that wasn’t the point. “You pickpocketed me.”
She turned to look at him. “That’s quite an accusation.”
“And that’s no kind of denial, you thief. That’s my purse.”
“Are you sure?” Her full lips quirked as she tested the weight of the coin within. “It certainly feels like it’s mine.”
His gaze narrowed on her. “She that finds, keeps?”
“Fast learner,” she said before sliding his purse across the smooth mahogany toward him. “I grew bored while I was waiting for you to arrive.”
“That’s an excuse?” he asked, ignoring the pleasure that came with the knowledge that she was waiting for him. He didn’t care if she waited for him or not. All that mattered was that she didn’t find Jack and Helene first.
Nevertheless, when Adelaide lifted a shoulder in a tiny shrug, he found he liked it more than he should. And then she said, “Idle hands and all that,” and he liked thatfarmore than he should, as it made him consider any number of ways she might keep those idle hands busy other than picking his pockets.
He cleared his throat. There was obviously something in the air in this roadside tavern that made it difficult for him to recall that he did not get along with Adelaide Frampton. He lifted his purse, sliding it into the pocket she hadn’t ruined. “I didn’t feel you.”
“Of course you didn’t,” she said, the words full of offense. “There was a time I was the best nipper in London.”
“I beg your pardon,” he said. “I wasn’t aware of your place as cutpurse royalty.”
“Deference would not be out of line.”
“What if I buy you a meal instead?”
“Another time, I’m afraid, as I have already paid foryourmeal.” She pushed past him, the scent of her, thyme and fresh rain, lingering as she crossed to a table in a far corner of the room.
