Page 16 of The Secret of the Dashing Detective
She glanced back at Matthew, and he couldn’t quite say what she held within her stare. He would have expected nothing less than irritation that he was following her on what was supposed to be time alone with her beau, but he wondered if there was something more there, a hint of a plea.
Perhaps she didn’t enjoy Lord Hemingway’s company as much as a woman should of her potential husband. Which brought him both unexpected joy and also some sadness as well. If she didn’t have any desire to be in the man’s presence, why on earth would she entertain a courtship with him?
Matthew followed them as they slowly meandered down Piccadilly. Any glances sent Lady Juliana’s way by passersby were only those of appreciation or potential interest. He had a fair understanding of the way society worked. By promenading down one of London’s best-known high-society streets, she would be practically spoken for in the scandal sheets tomorrow.
He saw Lady Juliana tilt her head and laugh at something Lord Hemingway said, the sun glinting off the soft skin on the arch of her throat. He wondered what one had to say to garner such appreciation from her, and then immediately pushed the thought from his head. What did it matter to him? He was here to see to her safety – something that he was not doing a particularly adept job at, for he was far too involved in watching her and not the environment around her.
It was the reminder he needed to take a closer look at his surroundings. It was hard to consider that a threat might exist somewhere behind the iron fenceposts of the green parks or between the red brick buildings. Here, not a hint of refuse existed in the streets – not like some of the neighbourhoods he was used to walking.
It was not as though it was a revelation. Many of his clients harkened from the Mayfair neighbourhood, not trusting the discretion of Bow Street, although Matthew himself had nothing but respect for the organization.
Which made it a mystery as to why he was suddenly so affected by the stark difference between this neighbourhood and those he belonged in. Perhaps it was Lady Juliana herself, as much as it scared him to admit the thought even to himself.
When they finally made it home after a long, boring, and uneventful walk, Matthew stood at the bottom of the steps of Warwick House as he waited for Lord Hemingway to depart. It was obvious even to Matthew that the earl was hinting to be asked in for refreshment, but Lady Juliana was either completely oblivious or attempting to appear to be so.
“It was such a lovely walk, Lord Hemingway,” she said, placing a hand on his arm in what Matthew was sure was supposed to be a gesture of amiability. “Thank you ever so much.”
“You are welcome, Lady Juliana,” Lord Hemingway said with a wide smile. “I would be so pleased to do so again sometime soon.”
“I had a lovely time,” Lady Juliana said, and Matthew noted that she never specifically agreed to another outing. Warmth bloomed through his chest, and he tried to tamp it down, for he was to have no emotion toward this woman.
They said their farewells, and Matthew remained where he was, nearly as much of a fixture rooted into the ground as was the brick post next to him. Lady Juliana did not, however, forget his presence.
“Thank you, Mr. Archibald,” she called out, and he had no choice but to walk up the stairs to speak to her so that it wouldn’t seem too much like a princess calling down to one of those serving her – even though that was, essentially, the truth of the situation. “My apologies to waste your afternoon.”
“No apologies required,” he said. “You remain safe and unharmed. That is what is most important and, in fact, what I am being paid to ensure.”
“I suppose that is true,” she acknowledged. “But I thank you nonetheless.”
He nodded and turned to go, but not before a temporary loss of sanity overtook him.
“What do you see in him?”
“P-pardon me?” she asked, her eyes wide. Matthew couldn’t help but note how beautiful she looked at the moment, pink in her cheeks from the outdoors and her exertions, her bonnet just enough askew on her head of rich brown hair that it didn’t look perfect, a few strands falling out to frame her face.
“Lord Hemingway. What is it that makes you wish to marry him?”
“Well, I…” she said, her hands flailing slightly in front of her as she seemed to struggle to find the words. “I am not entirely sure yet whether or not I will marry him.”
“But you are obviously seriously considering it.”
Why the hell was he continuing upon this discourse of conversation? It was going to give him the sack.
“I am, yes,” she said faintly.
Matthew cleared his throat. “I suppose I have become invested in your safety, and I would like to ensure this man could look after you.”
What a stupid sentiment, he cursed at himself. Surely she would see through his words, words that he should never be saying to her.
“I believe that Lord Hemingway would provide me with the comforts of life that I am accustomed and also the ability to do what I have longed to for some time now.”
Matthew wasn’t sure that she could have hurt him worse had she stuck a blade into his chest – and he had no idea why he would possibly be so vulnerable to her words. His role was to look after Lady Juliana and assure her safety – he wasn’t courting the woman.
And yet, somehow, she had worked her way into his heart, a place where she didn’t belong.
“Well. I suppose if nothing else he can pay someone to look after you,” Matthew said, unable to halt the hint of malice within his words. He turned to leave before his mouth betrayed him and he said something worse. He made it as far as the bottom of the stairs when she called after him.
“Mr. Archibald, are you available tomorrow?”
