Page 90 of From Rakes to Riches

She bit back a knowing smile and wondered if he’d ever spent time in her part of London. She doubted it. Nobs never left Mayfair unless they needed something. Something they couldn’t send someone else to fetch.

They fell into companionable silence, his boot heels marking the way while her slippers brushed softly against the pavement. Yet in the quiet she noticed other, louder things, like the inviting scent of his cologne, bergamot and spice. And the utter strength in his command, the width of his chest and length of his stride. She forced her attention to the immediate surroundings in an act of mercy.

His appearance at Vauxhall this evening was a waste of time. She’d seen nothing more than a long black greatcoat very like the one he wore. For all she knew, he could have committed the murder. Besides, he didn’t know what she’d witnessed and she intended for it to stay that way.

At the corner of Collyhurst Road and Kennington Street, she purposely directed him left, taking them on a longer route to the boarding house. Sofia and her brothers would eventually give up on waiting for her and walk home the same way. Lola didn’t want to cross paths.

She was so lost in these thoughts that the earl startled her when he spoke, his voice deep and smooth, void of any earlier tension as if he’d relaxed by having distanced himself from the fair grounds.

“How did you come by your skill? I watched you tonight in fascination. Though I clenched my jaw so tightly I know it will pain me come tomorrow.” He paused beneath an oil lantern, the sallow light from the lamp pole casting him in partial shadow. “It is an unusual talent.”

He’d surprised her. Not just in his concern on her behalf, but by his compliments. “I suppose my daring balancing act will catch up to me someday.”

Truer words couldn’t be spoken, though it wouldn’t be her first fall from grace.

“You know, you rarely answer what I’m asking. Why is that?” He stepped nearer; his face illuminated by the light now.

“I’m not sure, my lord.” She looked up and studied him. His eyes were sincere, his expression one of amused curiosity. “Habit, I suppose.”

When he didn’t reply, she asked a question of her own. No doubt a poor decision. But something about the way he stared at her, the intensity in his gaze and strong cut of his jaw, had her saying and doing things she would probably regret tomorrow. “What is it that you wish to know, my lord?”

“What does it feel like? To take such a dangerous risk and then conquer it repeatedly?” He asked, his voice more serious, as if he truly wished to know. His choice of question was interesting.

“Exhilarating. Incomparable. It’s wonderful to be separated from the world, to be above all the struggle and hardship. When I walk the rope, I’m completely in control and that’s a freedom I cherish.” Her heart squeezed tight. She didn’t often confess personal feelings.

“You know, we’re not so dissimilar, you and I, when it comes to desiring control and wanting to be free.”

She laughed at this. She couldn’t help it. Did he really think to compare his life with hers? She did her best to smother anyfurther amusement by resuming their walk. Standing under the lamplight was exposing emotions she’d rather keep in the dark. “You cannot be serious, my lord.”

“You needn’t be so formal, Lola. I hear my title all day long and we aren’t within society. You should call me by my given name.”

She laughed again, harder this time. As if he was trying to bamboozle her. “Which one? I don’t think I can remember them all.”

“No.” He stopped walking.

His habit of demanding attention by refusing to move was ironically indicative of how their lives were different. He possessed the luxury of time. She had to keep moving so the past wouldn’t catch up with her.

“I would like you to call me Theodore. I insist, so that we’re on equal ground. If not, then you must call me Essex. All yourmy lordingreminds me of how useless a title is if it can’t command a killer to be found or a friend to be returned.”

His solemn comments struck a chord within her even though she’d rather his words didn’t evoke such emotion.

“Very well,” she paused, forcing the last bit. “I will, Theodore.”

“Thank you.”

They continued, having apparently reached some kind of agreement, though other than his name, she had no idea what it could be.

“Are you originally from London?” He asked as they rounded the corner of the street where she lived.

“No. Ipswich was once my home.” She told him the truth because she didn’t believe it would ever bear significance. “The boarding house where I have a room is down at the end.”

“You have an intriguing view of life, Lola, and I’ve enjoyed your company.” He turned and faced her, sincerity in his eyes. “Thank you for the honor of escorting you home.”

“You do like all your pretty words, don’t you?” She quipped, uncomfortable with his praise although a smile willed its way to her lips.

He chuckled then, and the sound was rich and decadent, like the hot chocolate her mother used to make in the wintertime. It warmed her from the inside out. And just like that memory, like the last drop in her favorite cup, she didn’t want their time to end. But thinking of her mother always reminded her how itdidhave to end.

“My rental is in the next building,” she said to break the silence, slightly unnerved by all the conflicted emotions alive within her. She reached into her pocket and took out the ribbon attached to her key. It slipped through her fingers before she could catch it.

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