Page 67 of A Rogue to Watch Over Me
Now, as he stood near the bar, dressed in black from head to toe, save his white linen shirt and the silver-hued silk of his waistcoat, he was temptation come to life. The new growth of beard shadowing his jaw and the lean contours of his face only intensified the magnetic pull he held on her.
“Believe me, I put no stock in gossip,” Amelia said. “I learned that lesson long ago.”
Tilly’s smile was thoughtful. Had she noticed how Amelia’s gaze had lingered on him, perhaps a heartbeat or two more than was entirely proper?
“I’m glad. MacLain thinks highly of ye. If there’s a villain roaming, he’ll keep ye safe. Ye’ve no worries.” The barmaid’sattention turned to the patrons at a nearby table. “It looks like Barney is in need of another round.”
“Thank you again for the tea. And the conversation.”
“Ye’re quite welcome. I can see why MacLain wants to watch over ye.”
With that, Tilly scurried off to tend to her duties. Once again, Amelia was alone with her thoughts. She took a sip of tea. The barmaid’s words played in her mind.
MacLain wants to watch over ye.
Quite so. Pity his determination to protect her was rather a mixed blessing.
Having Logan so near he was ready to protect her at the blink of an eye may have hampered her attempt to glean information. Some talkative gent who may have revealed some hint as to Hawk’s identity might well have kept his distance rather than face MacLain. Of course, there was a fair chance her encounter with the ox-sized sot had hindered her efforts. After she’d wasted a tumbler of perfectly good brandy in response to the boor’s crude proposition, no man who’d witnessed the scene wandered within a stone’s throw of her table. Well, she’d had little choice in the matter, she reassured herself. She’d simply had to send the boor on his way.
The chimes at the entry jingled, a welcome distraction from her musings.Good heavens.Was that one of her brother’s clients skulking in? She sat up at attention, taking in a better look. Even with his collar turned up and his flat leather cap pulled low, Amelia could make out the man’s ginger hair and his distinctive prow of a nose. My, he certainly did resemble John Niles. But why would an industrialist’s heir with a taste for fine art slip into a workman’s pub, much less at this hour of the night?
As he cut a direct path to the bar, lamplight glinted off his spectacles. Behind the lenses, his pale, icy-blue eyes focusedstraight ahead. She knew those eyes, that ice-cold gaze. She would’ve wagered her last shilling the man was indeed John Niles. His plain sack coat and brimmed cap stood in stark contrast to the attire he’d worn when she’d last laid eyes on the man. On that day, he’d appeared confident, perhaps even cocky, as he stood in Paul’s office, seeking an appraisal of his most recent acquisitions. Now, he walked with a stoop-shouldered uneasiness, as though he found the pub’s earthy atmosphere distasteful, something to endure. John Niles was accustomed to a butler serving expensive wine in elegant crystal glasses, not a barkeep handing out ale in sturdy steins. What had brought him to this workman’s pub?
Most peculiar.
Keeping to the shadows, Amelia peered over her cup of tea and observed Niles. At the bar, he’d approached a thick-necked man in a dark bowler hat. The burly man appeared to recognize him, even as he kept his features out of sight. What in blazes was the man up to?
Perhaps she should move closer. Niles was not likely to recognize her. Years had passed since she’d made his acquaintance, and the interaction had been exceedingly brief. Now, he kept his back to her, engaged in discussion with the man in the bowler. If she edged within eavesdropping range, he might not even realize she was there.
While she pondered the move, the barkeep’s assistant, the amiable young man named Tim who had driven the carriage with Mrs. Langford, approached the men. Niles dismissed him with an abrupt wave of his hand.
Logan edged into her field of vision. As he’d done throughout the night, he made a point of engaging with any newcomer to the pub. His manner was amiable, but his presence nonetheless deterred any foolhardy disturbances. Amelia kept her attention on him as he approached the bar. She traced the breadth of hisshoulders and the length of his long, lean body with her gaze, smiling to herself as she took in the way his body moved with power and natural confidence.
A most impressive man.
She knew better than to be so taken with a man—with any man, much less a rogue. No matter how gallant he might be. But there was no denying the way Logan MacLain’s restrained power left her weak in the knees.
He approached Niles and the burly man, sidling up to them as if they were old chums. Appearing to recognize the proprietor, Niles traded his scowl for a bland expression. He exchanged a few words with Logan, meaningless banter that sounded quite forced.
The burly man in the bowler said little. His attention drifted to the corner where Amelia sat. His eyes narrowed. Hardened.
Had he recognized her?
To her relief, he turned away, lifting his glass to down a drink. Amelia let out a low breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
Appearing satisfied that the men were patrons and nothing more, Logan left them at the bar and headed into the back room. Minutes later, Niles glanced around the place. He was nervous. He could not disguise the way his gaze darted about, uneasy as a mouse with a cat on its heels.
When he stood to leave, he retrieved an envelope from an inner pocket of his jacket. Amelia could not decipher the words written in a cramped script above the distinctive seal. The circle of burgundy wax was nearly as large as a sovereign coin. Squinting, she could just make out the symbol which resembled an Egyptian hieroglyphic pressed into its surface. Was it a bird? Perhaps a falcon?
A hawk!A chill crept over her nape.
The man in the bowler hat tucked the envelope in his coat. In turn, he slipped Niles a small parcel wrapped in plain brown paper.
Niles turned from the bar and headed to the door. After a moment’s pause, just long enough to throw Amelia a pointed stare, he left, quietly as he’d come. The man in the bowler hat placed a coin on the bar as payment for his drink and followed Niles out the door.
Amelia’s mind raced. Did Niles know she’d seen the exchange? Was his cold glare meant as a warning? Or as a threat?
She drummed her fingers against the tabletop. My, she’d found more questions than answers, hadn’t she?
