Page 4 of A Little Bit Dangerous
She closed her eyes briefly, as if desperate to feel the warmth of the Italian sun. “The natural world never disappoints. Sadly, I cannot say the same for people.”
Christian had never ventured farther than London. A fact that added to his growing annoyance. “Time is of the essence. I’m not here to indulge in sentimental waffle. Might we examine the documents?”
He needed to return to Aldgate before midday. And a man might choke on his own bile if forced to spend a few hours with Sir Geoffrey Lawton’s offspring.
Daventry drew Brown aside and spoke quietly before saying, “We’ll fetch the two artefacts in question. Examine them and make notes on what you would expect to find if they were original treasures. Compare them to the detailed descriptions documented in the files. That should suffice this morning.”
The men exited the room, leaving Christian alone with Miss Lawton.
The atmosphere changed.
Tension wrapped around his chest like a poacher’s noose, the tightness making him aware of every drawn breath. An urgency to know why a woman would come to the museum at dawn prompted him to ask the most pressing question.
“What are you doing here, Miss Lawton?”
She blinked, her long lashes fanning her flawless olive skin. “I believe we’re about to examine ancient artefacts to determine if they’re fakes, sir.”
“I know that. Why are you not at home in bed?” Much to his chagrin, he imagined her hair loose, the soft, dark waves cascading over a crisp white pillow.
Miss Lawton’s heavy frown did not deter from her physical appeal. “Because I’m being paid to examine the artefacts. Are you unwell, Mr Chance? You seem preoccupied.” She raised her chin in defiance. “If you have an issue working alongside a woman, I suggest you discuss the matter with Mr Daventry. I assure you, I have the skills needed to solve this case.”
“Your skills are not my primary concern.” No, his main issue was the fact he found Lawton’s daughter appealing. Aaron would string him up by the ballocks for consorting with the enemy.
“Does your obvious reluctance to work with me stem from a fear of ruining my reputation? Again, you have no need to worry in that regard.” Her light laugh sounded empty. “I shall not force you to the altar.”
His laugh dripped with disdain. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last woman on earth.” Hell, his family would disown him. He’d be an outcast, left to wander the wilderness alone. A modern-day Judas.
Her sharp intake of breath caught him by surprise. “And I could never marry a man so callous he would hurt an innocent lady’s feelings.”
His conscience crawled from its cavern, squinting against the cold light of day. “You cannot be surprised by my vehemence.”
Water welled in her warm brown eyes. “Can I not? In all honesty, Mr Chance, I find it hard to believe you’re the sweet boy I remember.”
Was this woman trying to provoke him?
“That sweet boy died years ago. Hardships may scar a man’s soul. Injustice kills his spirit.”
Miss Lawton’s lilac skirts swished as she rounded the desk. “You’re rambling, sir, and clearly angry, though I’m unsure what it has to do with me. Might you speak plainly?”
Christian stepped back, keen to keep some distance between them. “I did, yet you found it offensive.”
“I found your delivery offensive. Explain your motivation for making such a comment.” Her vivacious voice held a trace of her mother’s Italian heritage, a soft lyrical cadence he found soothing. “I cannot see how we can work together if we do not discuss the root cause of your animosity.” She shrugged. “Perhaps you dislike those with Italian blood or those born on the wrong side of the blanket.”
“I’m not that shallow,” he snapped.
Then he remembered she had been sent to a ladies’ seminary and doubts crept into his mind. Was she aware of her father’s antics? Did she know the man had conspired with his lover to make children homeless?
“I hate your father with a vengeance,” Christian admitted. “I’ve considered pouncing on him in a dark alley and giving him the beating he deserves.” But revenge was a dish best served cold. And Aaron intimated he had set events in motion to ensure Lawton’s downfall.
Miss Lawton’s gaze slid over his broad chest. “Might I ask why?”
“Why?” Did she really not know, or was she as cunning as her kin? “Surely you know what happened the day my father died?” He could recall every harrowing detail.
“When was that, exactly?”
Christian frowned. “The May of 1815.”
The significant day was carved into his memory.
