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She said nothing, just turned and left the room. She walked down the hall, breaking into a run. She headed for the front door meaning to get Charles to stop. She threw it open to find that he was already gone.
She stood staring out at the street. Several passersby turned to look. One of them was a woman dressed in rags. Arabella met her gaze. She seemed to be looking at Arabella with pity. She stepped back inside closing the door. She leaned her forehead against the cold wood. A tear slipped down her cheek. She brushed it away.
* * *
“So, the Duke of Tiverwell will not be assisting us?” Lord Dunsmore asked. He had dropped by Charles’s office to see how the meeting with the Duke of Tiverwell had gone. They were both seated in armchairs with drinks in hand. Lord Dunsmore was peering out the window watching the passersby out on the street.
“Unfortunately, no,” Charles replied, staring into the amber depths of his brandy.
“And, the daughter—”
“I cannot ask Arabella to be involved,” Charles stated flatly. On no account, would he ever put her in any danger. He wanted her as far away from all of this as possible. He wondered if he could convince her to leave the city. He knew that he could never force her to do a thing, but—
“You speak of her in the familiar,” Lord Dunsmore said, turning toward him. Charles blinked at him, in surprise. He was far too discerning, and Charles had made the slip.
“We were…we are…” Charles sighed. “I love her.”
“And the Duke does not approve.” Lord Dunsmore nodded to himself. He seemed…sympathetic to Charles’s plight.
“That was actually why he’s so upset with me,” Charles explained. “I was…holding her hand when he walked in.”
“You were found in a compromising position with the Lady Arabella?” Lord Dunsmore asked, a slow smile spreading across his face. “You sly dog.” He sounded pleasantly surprised.
“It wasn’t that compromising,” Charles grumbled.
“Oh, Charles. You’re so much more fun than I thought you were going to be,” Lord Dunsmore said, patting him on the shoulder. He leaned back in his seat taking a sip of his drink.
“Thank you,” Charles muttered, unsure if that was a compliment.
Lord Dunsmore stood up carrying his drink with him. Charles watched as the detective paced back and forth. “Let’s try another member of the Millgate Club, shall we? I’ll see if he’ll invite us for a visit.”
“I thought—” Charles began, but the detective cut him off.
“I’m going to disguise myself,” Lord Dunsmore explained. “Perhaps, you should as well. We can pretend to be other gentlemen looking to do business with this Mr. Bones.”
“All right,” Charles said, even though his pulse raced at the utter danger this would put them in. He had figured that they were going to eventually come face to face with this Mr. Bones, but not like this. He opened his desk drawer pulling out his pistol. He set it down on top of the desk.
“When can we go?”
