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“Watching me?” he said.
She returned her attention to his bandages. “Lift.”
“Your ears are turning red, Adelaide.”
Her head snapped up. “What?” One hand went to the tip of one of those perfect ears. “I don’t know what that means.”
“In card games, I believe that’s called a tell.”
She looked away. “Tell me why you know about broken ribs.”
“Admit you watched me in ballrooms.”
“I watch everyone in ballrooms,” she replied.
“Yes, but I’m asking about me, specifically.”
“I would not take it as a compliment,” Adelaide said. “I spent a fair amount of time watching you and imagining what it would be like to take you down.”
“Mmm,” he said. “And look where we’ve landed—you nursing me back to health.”
She couldn’t hide her smile. “A task that would be made easier if you did not remove your bandages.”
“Ah, but then how would I ensure you would touch me?”
He expected her to blush and bluster. He did not expect her to look up at him through her pretty dark lashes like an absolute goddess and say, “You could try asking nicely.” He exhaled harshly at the words, loving them almost as much as he loved the wicked smile on her lips when she realized how she’d impacted him. “Sit, please.”
He did as he was told, lowering himself to the edge of the bed, and refusing to lie down. “To confirm, you do watch me in ballrooms.”
She rolled her eyes, dropping into the chair in front of him. “Yes. Fine. I watch you.”
Why did that make him want to crow with pride?
“Now tell me why you know about broken ribs,” she added.
“Is everything with you a trade? I answer one question, you answer the next?”
“Information is the most valuable commodity there is, Your Grace. It brings power and safety and a secure future.”
“You have all those things.”
She shook her head. “No woman ever really has those things. At best, she has approximations of them.”
“Adelaide Frampton, I promise you this—as long as I breathe, I shall keep you safe and secure.” Her eyes flew to his, surprise and something like heat in them. He smiled. “You and your gang of women bring the power yourselves.”
Her pretty lips went slack.
Good. Let her sit with that while he answered her question. “I told you that I fought for six years at school. What I did not tell you was that I did not fightinschool.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I was an angry boy of fourteen, looking for somewhere to put my fist that wasn’t my father’s face.”
Her brows rose, but she did not speak.
“Would you believe I was not the only boy at Eton who was interested in finding such a location?”
She gave a little laugh. “I would, indeed. Though I would argue you would have all done the globe a great service if you’d found the courage to deliver facers to the men of the aristocracy.”
