Page 91 of From Rakes to Riches

The earl bent down and retrieved it without thought. He held it a moment, stared at it, before he looked at her again. When he placed it in her outstretched hand, his fingers wrapped around her palm, his thumb brushing across her skin in a gentle caress. The moment left her breathless.

“Very good then. I’ll walk you to the front stairs,” he said finally, his words lower, yet somehow more intense than before.

“Lola?” Marco’s voice interrupted the night. “Lola, what are you doing?”

5

“Marco.” She rushed to the steps where he waited, unsure how to manage his unexpected appearance and anxious now for the earl to leave.

“Is everything all right?” The earl asked, inserting himself into the conversation and making the situation more complicated.

That was the trap with nobs and gentry, they made life increasingly more difficult.

“Yes,” she turned back to reassure him. “You should go. Thank you again for seeing to my safety.”

“Think nothing of it.”

The earl spoke to her, though his eyes remained on Marco where he stood unmoved on the top step of the building’s stoop. She had to diffuse the situation before it escalated. Men and their masculine foolishness would forever cause her frustration.

“I need to talk to you,” Marco said, though his attention hadn’t wavered either.

She slid her key into the lock and opened the door, waiting for Marco to follow. She knew what the earl would assume, butshe was helpless to resolve things otherwise. Any conversation she’d have with Marco had to happen behind closed doors.

They went upstairs and she lit a lantern, not wanting to prolong his visit.

“What is it?” She asked, wondering if he would forget her walking home with the earl in favor of his own problem.

“What did Mr. Deep Pockets want?”

Apparently not.

She sat down at the tiny wooden table that constituted her kitchen and living room though Marco paced to the window and glanced out, probably checking to see if the street was empty now.

“Nothing important.” She sighed deeply, tired and wanting to sleep. “He asked about the murder. The man who was killed was his friend. Morland must have mentioned that it occurred during my act and the earl?—”

“He’s an earl?”

“Yes.” Beneath the table, she nudged the leg of the chair opposite her with her foot. “Sit down. Listen to what I’m telling you.”

Her words sounded reminiscent of so many conversations within their relationship. Marco was quick to anger and didn’t always think things through clearly. She didn’t want trouble. Not from him or Morland or the earl. She just wanted to forget about the other night and put it behind her.

Marco sat and rubbed his eyes. He had to be just as exhausted as she.

“The earl asked me if I’d seen anything. That’s all. Then he walked me home. He was concerned about my safety.”

“But you didn’t see anything, so what did you talk about?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. My walking on the rope.” She shook her head. “All this discussion about the murder keeps the event too alive. I want to forget about it. No one is going to beable to identify a man in a black coat. Half of London wears a black coat.”

“You saw the man,” Marco snapped his head around, his attention renewed. “From up on the platform?”

“A tall man in a black coat.” She bit her lower lip, their conversation treading into dangerous territory. But she could trust Marco not to repeat anything. He despised Runners as much as she did.

“You saw his face?”

“No. I didn’t say that.” Her words were sharp. She wanted him to leave.

“Did you see the murder, Lola? Is that why you’re upset? Because you saw what happened?”

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