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He tipped his hat. “Miss Mimi, will you allow me to escort you to your destination.”
She glanced over her shoulder, noting the emptiness of the street and then at the sky, no doubt observing the dark lavender hue as the sun lowered. “Oh dear,” she said a bit fretfully. “I really stayed out much later than anticipated.”
“Where are your servants?”
Even he knew every well-bred young lady had a man or a woman that followed them about wherever they went, even in these fine parts of London.
Her eyes suddenly twinkled. “I quite accidentally left them at home.”
“How did one manage to leave required servants at home.”
“Accidentally,” she pointed out slowly as if he were dim-witted.
“Of course,” he said, biting a smile.
“I thank you for the offer of the escort, Mr. Lucien; regrettably, I must decline.”
“Why regrettably?”
The question shot out of him so fast she blinked up at him owlishly. “I beg your pardon?”
“Why do you regret that you must decline?” He badly wanted to know. “Is it the keenest sort of regret, or is it mild?”
Those lush lips twitched, and humor brightened the sheer beauty of her eyes.
She glanced about the street as if watching for anyone who might observe them.
“I was merely being polite…well, it seemed like the polite thing to say; now I can see that it implies I am in want of your company but must act with a sense of propriety, hence I feel regret.”
He smiled. “Are you always this…honest with your words?”
“No. I recall at least three fibs I told my siblings last week. One was rather badly done of me for it cost her a most charming bonnet.”
Lucien laughed. “There is no one else in my carriage. I promise it will be circumspect and very much aboveboard should I deliver you home.”
She took a cautious step backward. “I do believe that if we were alone in that tiny confined space, Mr. Lucien, it would be a problem, not the solution you think it to be.”
He was…charmed. Had he ever been charmed before in his entire six and twenty years on earth? He canted his head and considered the oddity before him that had roused that astonishing sensation. Before he could come up with a pithy reply, she dipped into a quick curtsy.
“I do hope one day I might be allowed to repay your kindness, sir.” She held up a finger as if that would halt his thoughts from running down a wicked and errant path. “That is not a promise that I am in your debt and must submit when you collect.”
Lucien was affronted that she seemed to be able to read his thoughts. He was a gambler and part-owner of a gambling den. He was the unflappable sort that men could not easily read.
That is the problem, his inner voice taunted,she is a lady.
She whirled around, clutching the leather-bound book and parasol to her chest, and hurried down the street. He watched her for several seconds before glancing up at the townhouse where he had the plan to call on one Mrs. Lucy Lovellette. That assignation was forgotten, the appeal of taking the widow to the opera and possibly to his bed, vanishing like a puff of smoke under the gust of a harsh wind. Lucien went after Miss Mimi, and at the sound of his footsteps, she glanced over her shoulder, her eyes widening and reminding him of a heroine in a gothic mystery knowing that the big bad wolf was coming after her. Interestingly, she did not run but slowed her steps until he walked beside her.
“I gather you feared some sort of kidnapping should you enter my carriage alone, Miss Mimi,” he said, almost choking on the name. “I assure you—”
“Or something far more dastardly,” she said tartly.
Well…“Such as?”
She cast him a sidelong glance. “Whatever your imagination should conjure as more villainous than a kidnapping. Let that be your answer, my good sir.”
He was amused by her glib wit. “I am even more regretful that you did not accompany me in my carriage.”
“You are a shameless flirt, sir!”
