Page 16 of Temptress in Disguise
She had not expected Mr Chance to have a list of demands as long as Hadrian’s Wall. Nor had she anticipated the rush of excitement when gazing upon his broad chest. Seeing his dreadful scar had hurt her heart. Amid the maelstrom of emotions, the need to soothe his woes had taken precedence.
You’re more fortunate than most, she imagined telling him.Take heart.People love you. Your brothers would die for you.
Most shocking of all was why he affected her so profoundly. The smell of his clothes proved irresistible. Perhaps his valet had added laudanum to his cologne. Inhaling the musky scent had quickly developed into an addiction.
“I’ve not had second thoughts.” He spoke in the commanding voice she found comforting. “Though I will need certain assurances before we proceed.”
Anticipating the request, she urged him to follow her into the shabby inn. “After the night’s events, I’m sure you need a drink, and the Reverend Smollett is awaiting our arrival. I have a few items in my bag that should prove my claim.” Her enquiry agent would convince him she spoke the truth.
He marched beside her, a giant against her slight frame.
No one in the yard dared look in their direction.
The moment they entered the dim taproom, all conversation died. Word of Mr Chance’s formidable strength had men shifting sideways and stumbling over their feet. Some eyed him as one would a dangerous panther. Others arrogantly assessed the size of his arms, gauging if they had the skill to beat him.
The air reeked of stale smoke and unwashed clothes. Dogs lounged beside the huge stone hearth while their masters’ mouths were glued to their tankards.
Dressed in black, the Reverend Smollett sat in a shadowy corner of the taproom, sucking on chicken bones and guzzling ale. Beside him, Mr Sloane—the agent who’d suggested Mr Chance’s desire for retribution would make him a valuable ally—sat flipping a coin between his fingers.
Naomi motioned to the men. “Let me introduce you to the reverend and the agent I hired to find Lydia. You can hear what they have to say before making a decision.”
Mr Chance gritted his teeth as he eyed the enquiry agent. “I knew it. I knew Daventry was involved.” He referred to the master sleuth who owned the enquiry agency.
“Yes. It was Mr Daventry who explained our common interest.” Until then, she had not known how Mr Chance had come by the dreadful scar. “And Mr Sloane said he worked with you recently on a case involving your brother and Egyptian artefacts.”
“Did Sloane encourage you to kidnap me at gunpoint? Or was it his matchmaking employer who first mentioned marriage?”
She came to an abrupt halt, forcing him to face her. She stared into eyes that were depthless obsidian pools. “Mr Sloane suggested I give you an opportunity to seek retribution for the injustice served.Idecided to bring a pistol and shackles, and so raided the theatre’s prop basket.”
He raised a brow. “Prop basket? The pistol wasn’t loaded?”
“Of course not. I’m a novice when it comes to abduction. If I’d shot you, I’d never have forgiven myself.”
She expected the ground to tremble as his temper rose from its underground lair, but he threw back his head and laughed. “Miss Grant, this business is so farcical I’m inclined to think I’m dreaming.”
“Sir, I would pinch you were it not for the no-touching rule.” Guilt tugged at her conscience. She didn’t want him to think she was as cunning as her stepmother. “The pistol seemed like the best way to gain your assistance. You’re free to leave with my humble apology. I shall deal with Melissa myself.” She offered him a sincere smile. “On the bright side, has it not been an interesting evening?”
“Interestingis one word I’d use to describe tonight’s events.”
Feminine pride soared in her chest. Few could claim to capture the notice of such a formidable fellow. Lydia would be furious. “Surprisingmight be another. My sister was adamant I lacked the skill needed to gain a gentleman’s attention.”
His eyes brightened as he studied her face. “I’m not a gentleman. And you had my undivided attention before you drew the pistol.”
She held his gaze. Something passed between them. Something warm and congenial, which was odd when one considered his dangerous reputation. “Will you join me in a discussion with the reverend and Mr Sloane? Or shall we part ways here?”
Her pulse raced as she awaited his answer.
In his presence, she did not feel so dreadfully alone.
“Since you risked gaol to get me to the Copper Crown, it would be rude not to stay.” His hand came to rest on the small of her back, a gesture for her to lead the way. He didn’t remove it until they reached the table.
“Ah, Miss Grant. I wasn’t sure you’d return.” The reverend barely took his eyes off his dinner. Grease coated his bristled chin. Wine stained his white Geneva bands. “I see you brought the groom.”
“Potential groom,” she said. “Mr Chance needs more information before he will relinquish his bachelorhood.”
Mr Chance glowered at Mr Sloane. “I want a private word with you once we’ve concluded our business. You might have visited me at Fortune’s Den instead of forcing the lady to take matters into her own hands.”
Mr Sloane leaned back in the chair and grinned. With his long hair, he had the look of a swashbuckling pirate. “Miss Grant should be commended. I bet ten pounds she’d crumble at the first hurdle.” He glanced at her, unrepentant. “No offence, madam. Who knew you could accomplish such an impossible feat?”
