Page 42 of Teach a Rogue New Tricks
Ada jumped out of her seat, hitting her head on the top of the coach.
“Oh, sorry.” A man with a luxurious mustache looked in through the window. He had wavy dark hair and deep-blue eyes. The mustache, a lighter brown than the man’s hair rested crooked above lips cocked into a half smile, a smirk. “Did I scare you?”
Ada leaned forward. “Cass? Is that you?”
“I thought I’d try a disguise.”
“It’s”—she pressed her lips tight, holding back a deluge of laughter—“interesting.” She failed, and laughter spilled forth, drowning them both. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said between gasps. “You look so silly!”
He looked only slightly put out. “Silly is better than endangered. Your note last night warned me to take caution.”
“I’m sorry about my sister. I wish I could guarantee her silence.”
He shrugged and opened the hackney door, offering her his gloved hand to help her alight.
“Why are we here?” she asked.
“I did well yesterday, don’t you think, re-entering the wholesome stream of family life.” He smirked and waved the way forward on the path.
She stepped in line with him, matching her pace to his leisurely steps. “You did. But…”
His steps hitched, then he continued more smoothly. “But?”
“You spent most of your time hidden behind a statue.”
“Excellent point. That’s why today is necessary. I’m continuing my return to life. No hiding behind statues today.”
“And you need me here because…?”
“You are a most excellent governess.”
“And you need the mustache because…?”
“I do not wish to be recognized. And because”—he clasped his hands together behind his back—“a man who feels silly is not likely to feel seductive.”
Oh dear. She did not want to have to tell Nora she’d been right. “You … you’re likely to feel seductive?” The next step she took not only took her forward, but to the side, farther away from him.
“As a man in the midst of reformation, I must be truthful. Yes.”
Ah. Best not to ask who inspired such lust—her or every other female they might meet. She discovered long ago with the children that ignorance often offered greater peace of mind. “Why are we here? Other than your return to the living.”
He pointed ahead at a building. “Gunter’s Tea Shop. Have you been here yet?”
She shook her head.
“Excellent. My treat.”
“Why?”
“Full of questions this morning, Miss Cavendish.” His next step took him to the side as well, closer to her. “Gunter’s is an innocent diversion. Like the Tower. And… I thought you might enjoy it. Inside we might be too conspicuous, so we shall dineal fresco. But—” He looked up at the gray sky and a giant raindrop pelted his nose. He wiped it away with a look of disgust, and the water left a dark stain on his glove. “It looks like rain.”
She laughed as a raindrop settled onto her shoulder and then her cheek.
He grabbed her hand, threading their fingers together, and turned them in the opposite direction. He ran, tugging her along behind him. He stopped before the hackney and yanked the door open then pushed her up and inside. “Get in.”
The heavens opened up, and the raindrops fell faster. She climbed into the coach, and he followed, sitting on the seat across from her. The air between them grew hot and humid and the small shower they’d dashed through left his hair frizzing about his face in way that made Ada want to weep. And run her hands through it, smoothing, curling ringlets about her fingers and tracing the outline of his face.
The hackney must have rambled into the mouth of Hades. That only could explain the heat sizzling from her. From him.
