Page 17 of When a Lady Kisses a Scot
Sophie’s lips pursed, and her eyes narrowed, coolly self-assured. “Given that you are a gentleman, Professor, I trust you have arranged for a chaperone. I do have my reputation to consider.”
Reputation.Bloody ironic, that, coming from a woman who’d thrown her lot in with a man like Trask. Sophie had far worse threats to consider than the whispers of housemaids and jaded Londoners.
Gavin met her words with a smile. “Of course. I wouldn’t think of compromising your good name. Mr. Bailey, I trust you have taken care of the matter.”
“I’ve called upon my secretary to accompany you.”
“Very good.”
“Sir, I would be remiss if I did not express my reservations. This hotel is not a venue for—”
Two soft raps upon the door cut into his statement.
“Ah, that must be Miss Cornwell.” The manager opened the door, sweeping it shut behind the dour-faced matron who crossed the threshold. From her starched white blouse to the prim hat perched on her upswept salt-and-pepper hair, the woman appeared the model of propriety.
“Thank you for joining us,” Gavin said.
“I am pleased to be of service,” the chaperone responded, even as her drawn features made no secret of her distaste for the task.
Mr. Bailey cleared his throat in dramatic fashion. “You are quite certain you wish to proceed with this…unconventional endeavor?”
“Considering what I’ve paid for the use of this room, what I do within the confines of the well-appointed space is not your concern.”
“If you insist.” The manager frowned, glancing again at Sophie, as if to communicate some unspoken warning. “I will show you to the room.”
“I do not require an escort. I could navigate this hotel in my sleep.” Gavin extended his hand. “Now, if you’ll be so kind as to provide the key.”
“Very well.” With a grudging nod, Mr. Bailey fumbled in his jacket and produced a key. “The owner will not abide scandal. Please keep that in mind.”
“I trust that is a new policy. The man did not give a tinker’s damn all the years my father used this room for his tête-á-têtes.”
With that, he gently caught Sophie by the elbow. She tensed beneath his touch, but offered no protest as he turned from the manager and led her to the lift with Miss Cornwall tagging close behind.
Gaslight gleamed against the intricate crystal fixtures hanging over their heads, creating the look of stars against the high ceiling, crowning Sophie’s honey-toned hair with an array of golden hues. How would her lush, silky strands feel wrapped around his fingers?
As if she’d detected the rebellious bent of his thoughts, Sophie straightened her spine and cocked her chin. Holding herself as prim as a preacher’s wife, she studied him, as if trying to deduce the precise nature of his intentions.
“I presume your father preferred the penthouse,” she said as they stepped inside the lift, scant inches separating them. This close to her, he could detect the faintest whiff of citrus perfuming her hair, an appealing aroma, clean and crisp, utterly unpretentious.
Gavin shook his head. “Father would not have wasted his blunt on extravagant quarters for his mistress. The old man was nothing if not sensible. I’m told he preferred to indulge his paramour’s taste for jewelry.”
A sharp, indrawn breath from Miss Cornwall drew a hint of a smile from Sophie. A strained silence filled the cage. The unlucky woman Bailey had chosen as a chaperone stood with arms akimbo, as if prepared to protect her charge from a wily predator.
The lift stopped, and he escorted Sophie to a room that took up the northwest corner of the seventh floor. Miss Cornwall nipped at his heels. He bit back a chuckle. Did the woman think he’d leave her behind, exposing Sophie to some unspeakable depravity?
At the door, Sophie waved away the chaperone. “I’d prefer that you wait here.”
Miss Cornwall met her request with a stony resistance. “I’m sorry, miss, I cannot do that. My instructions were to accompany you.”
“And you have done precisely that. If you will remain at the door, alert for any sign of trouble, I would be in your debt,” Sophie said gently. “Do you know our purpose in coming here tonight?”
“Mr. Bailey mentioned his concerns.”
“He has his doubts, and that is understandable.” Sophie met the older woman’s worried eyes. “A stranger in this room will hinder any attempt to make contact. Do you understand?”
To his surprise, the matron’s resistance seemed to dissipate. “I do know what you mean. I’ve been to a séance…or two. The spirits have their ways. But I cannot be remiss in my duties.”
“Of course not,” Sophie met her words with a look of understanding. “The door will remain unlocked. In the unlikely event that I need your assistance, I will signal. I trust you will be here if I need you.”
