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Her lips pursed for a quick second. “As I am currently at the mercy of you and whatever schedule you intend to keep, I have no plans to set into place today or the next few days, so I am planning my schedule for the future.”
“You like to plan things?”
“I am conditioned for it. I am accustomed to handling much of the activities at the Den. Food, drink, which women are available when, their schedules, who the incoming patrons are.”
“It sounds like a lot.”
“It is.”
His hand flicked toward the carriage window that he’d cracked for fresh, crisp air. “Or you could look out the window at the clouds in the sky, relax and not plan anything.”
She gave him a withering look.
Point taken, she didn’t like to relax.
His hand dropped down onto the cushion next to him. “Jasper told me what happened to Mr. Hoppler and his woman being shot. That must have put a kink in your schedule.”
She shook her head, looking out the window with her mouth clamped closed.
“You are in love with Mr. Hoppler?”
Her gaze whipped to him, her blue eyes pinpricks on his face. “Why would you say that?”
His forefinger lifted to point to her. “Your eyes, they clouded over at his name.”
She shifted her backside on the carriage cushion and set her kidskin-gloved hands, one on top of the other, in her lap. “I most assuredly do not love Hoppler. I do not love. But I do respect and care for him, as I do also for Pen’s well-being. What you saw in my eyes was worry over my friend. Hoppler has saved me more than once and I will be forever in his debt.”
“So, you’re just bed partners, then?”
Her jaw dropped slightly as her look skewered him. “You think just because I work in a brothel I have sex with everyone I know?”
“No…”
She leaned forward, her words prickly. “Don’t presume to know—or worse—guess anything about my life.”
“I thought ye said you could be docile.”
A short, terse laugh cut from her mouth. “I said I can be docile in front of your grandfather. I didn’t say anything about the rest of our time together.”
Evan heaved a breath. She was right. What did he know of her brothel? Of her activities? Of the actual thoughts of women in general? He’d never had to pay for a woman to warm his bed. And at that, he liked the women gone as quickly as they’d appeared.
Both of his hands flew up, warding off her ire. “My apologies. I was just trying to work out what business you had at the Willows. Jasper said you were almost always at the Den of Diablo.”
“Yes, well, Jasper likes to talk where he shouldn’t.” She settled back, relaxing ever so slightly at his apology. At least she knew how to move onward from the rude comment he’d made. “I was at the Willows to help Hoppler with Pen. That was all.”
“You are a good friend.”
Her tiny shoulders lifted. “I try to be. People depend on me.”
“Do you like that?”
“I cultivate it.” Her gaze moved off of him to the field they passed as raindrops started to splotch onto the glass. “If I am depended upon, then my life has worth.”
He nodded, studying her eyes as she said the words. Honest. More honest than most people were with themselves. But so many currents ran under her eyes at the words. Her life had no worth if she wasn’t depended upon? And how exactly had she become a fallen lady?
For as little as he knew about women, he knew he couldn’t ask her that question outright. Certainly not on the first day they met.
He settled for a neutral inquiry. “What makes you happy, Juliet?”
