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There was frost in his voice when he replied, ‘What is it about my company you object to, Mrs Falkner? Have I done something you find offensive?’
Her words had hurt him. It was a vulnerability she would not have expected from a man who carried himself with such confidence, but he had asked and she was all for speaking the truth. ‘I am a respectable woman, Mr Read.’ A respect that had been hard-won in a town like Skepton, where the community closed ranks against outsiders. ‘It will not serve my reputation to be seen junketing around with a single gentleman, no matter how worthy he may be. Or how well connected.’ She had no wish to be the subject of gossip or idle speculation, for Thomas’s sake, as much as for her own.
The hard muscles beneath her hand tensed, though his face gave nothing of his thoughts away. He was like a coiled spring. A weapon ready to fire. Perhaps if she insulted him enough, he would walk off in a huff. Let her escape from his unsettling presence. The flutters of attraction she felt each time he looked at her with those amazingly piercing hazel eyes were scrambling her thoughts. Was it because Merry and Charlie had deliberately warned her about his reputation as a ladies’ man prior to their wedding? Could it be her tendency to wickedness leading her astray? After all these years? Certainly not. She would never become one of his conquests. Or let him expose her secrets. She dropped her hand from his arm.
He did not take the hint. With grim determination, he walked her all the way to the hotel entrance and handed off her basket to the footman waiting at the door with an easy grace that belied his missing left hand. After five years, he must be used to it, she supposed, but still, something inside her ached at the sight of the sleeve pinned at the wrist.
Not that his injury made him any less of a man. Indeed, he had the sort of lethal masculinity that warned the unwary to be careful unless they disturb a sleeping beast. And warned a woman to guard her heart.
‘What time did you intend to set out for Skepton tomorrow?’ he asked in a surprisingly mild tone given the heat of anger in his gaze. Or perhaps it wasn’t anger at all, but something far more risky. Chills ran across her skin. Pleasant little prickles.
She ignored her body’s reaction. ‘I asked Mr Garge to have the coach at the door at eight. The haberdasher has promised to deliver the rest of my supplies later this afternoon. I will be home by mid-afternoon.’
He doffed his hat and bowed. ‘Then I wish the rest of your day is pleasant and bid you good day.’ He marched off, his bearing very much that of a soldier.
Dashing and handsome, in or out of uniform. Her skin warmed. Her body tingled in unmentionable places she thought she had firmly under control. The man was without doubt one of the most attractive she’d ever met. The kind of man...
Blast. How could she entertain such thoughts when she knew the danger of the smallest indiscretion? She had spent years creating an aura of respectability. Fought hard to maintain it, too. She wasn’t about to throw her life away for the sake of a handsome man. Especially not one of the ilk of Mr Read, who, while not legitimate, had an earl for a father. For Tommy’s sake, she could not afford to be noticed by anyone with connections to the beau monde. Not if she wanted to keep her son by her side.
If Mr Read should ever put two and two together she might well lose her son.
* * *
Charlie’s timing was abysmal. The next morning, sitting in the snug at the Sleeping Tiger, Blade stared at the letter that had, according to his groom, Ned, arrived in the first post. It was exactly what he had hoped for and the worst possible news. If he had known about this yesterday, before he’d met Mrs Falkner, it might not now feel so damnably uncomfortable. Mrs Falkner was not going to be pleased.
Understatement of the year.
She might, he mused, even think he was lying to get his own way in the matter of her requiring an escort.
Too bad. Charlie had offered him a position, albeit temporary, and he intended to do all he could to prove his friend’s trust justified. He needed this job. If he was successful, he might even be able to hold up his head and meet his father’s gimlet gaze after the Peterloo debacle.
Serving in the army had offered him the chance to leave his unfortunate beginnings behind and he’d mucked it up. No doubt the earl would already have received word of his failure. This offer he’d received from Charlie was a chance to start again without the need to ask his father for assistance. Something he hated. He certainly wasn’t going to let Mrs Falkner’s dislike keep him from honest employment.
He glanced at the dingy face of the case clock in the corner. ‘Damn.’ It was gone nine, well after the time she said she’d depart. Still, ladies were often late. Or at least his sisters often were. As were his previous inamoratas. Lost hair ribbons and misplaced gloves generally delayed a lady’s departure by more than an hour or two.
