Page 32 of Lady Gambit
Her heart softened as she recalled the loving bond they shared.
“Mrs Maloney has never married and has no family. She’s been like a mother to us all.” She was always there with caring words and sound advice, a pillar of strength when their faith crumbled.
A darkness passed over Mr Flynn’s rugged features. “I assume you mean she is kind and loving. Not all mothers are so inclined.”
Those brusque words held a hint to his own troubled past.
Indeed, the icy chill of loneliness clung to the air.
“I have no recollection of the woman who nursed me, sir, but I assume instinct encourages a mother to love her child.”
A heavy silence fell over them.
Keen to lighten the mood, she said, “I mention it merely for comparison, but kissing Mr Harper was like being assaulted by a wet fish. It was nothing like the kiss we shared.”
It hadn’t fired her blood. It hadn’t left her with an undeniable ache. It hadn’t stolen precious hours of sleep or had her yearning to feel the heat of his mouth again. The memory of kissing Mr Flynn stirred something sinful inside her. A desire to cast off her restraints and indulge in every wicked pleasure.
Perhaps he was plagued by the same salacious thoughts because he said, “I’ve not felt tempted to kiss a woman in years. Work has been my only focus.” He glanced out of the window at the manor’s elegant facade, the reward for his efforts, and gave a satisfied sigh. “Securing my independence has always been a priority.”
“It’s a beautiful house.” Despite the plush furnishings and an abundance of exquisite paintings, the rooms felt empty and cold. Mrs Maloney’s home was littered with paper and books, but love lived within the pages.
“It’s mine. That’s all that matters.” His proud tone reminded her of Aaron’s speech when he’d saved the money to purchase Fortune’s Den.
It told her everything she needed to know.
Like Aaron, Mr Flynn hid behind a robust persona, a barricade to keep people out. He thought happiness lay inacquiring possessions. That love was fickle, and security soothed the soul.
“The kiss we shared was quite exceptional.” So exceptional it had fed her obsession and left her wanting more. “But in the interests of the case, let us credit your lapse in judgement on the strain of saving a man’s life.”
“That seems the most probable cause,” he agreed, though the flash of hunger in his eyes said otherwise.
“You were merely seeking comfort after a harrowing few hours.” She straightened her skirts and smiled. “Good. Now we’ve established I am merely your client, I instruct you to take me to Hart Street. I want to discuss the case with Mr Daventry.”
That knocked the wind out of his sails.
He stiffened. “You’re no longer my client but a witness in an attempted murder case. As Daventry said, this is no longer a personal matter but one of public safety. Therefore, I must insist you remain here.”
She had sat nibbling toast this morning, anticipating his response. “Mr Daventry did not hire you, nor did he pay your fee. He merely persuaded you to take my case. Sybil Daventry paid you to find my parents. In that regard, nothing has changed. I am your client. If you decide to conduct an investigation for Bow Street, that is a separate matter.”
She arched a brow, challenging him to argue.
He did not.
“You’re a man of honour, Mr Flynn, a man of your word. Will you renege on an agreement made in good faith? Will you ignore the wishes of my benefactor?”
The corners of his mouth twitched. He seemed impressed and annoyed in equal measure. “Your brother put paid to any enquiries I might make on your behalf.”
“My brother is not your client. But I will have the same conversation with Mr Daventry.” She tapped the roof twice. Theflick of the reins and the coachman’s gruff command preceded the carriage rolling forward. “Forgive me, but we mustn’t be late for our appointment. As Mr Daventry is overseeing the investigation, he can instruct you to ignore his wife’s request.”
She had spent the night thinking about what she should do. Sit like a stuffed goose waiting for men to solve her problems? Or become the master of her own destiny? The latter was not without risk. But if the incident outside Miss Darrow’s shop proved anything, a thug could abduct her at gunpoint without warning. And she refused to watch another brother suffer as Theo had.
Mr Flynn stared at her as the carriage rumbled along the tree-lined drive. “Now I know why your brothers keep you prisoner in the attic. You have a man’s grasp of logic and a woman’s skill for manipulation.”
“And only your passionate kisses can disarm me. What a shame I am merely your client. You have the wherewithal to silence me, sir, yet seem loathe to bend me to your will.”
He breathed deeply and rubbed his jaw. “Don’t tease me, madam.”
“I am simply stating a fact.” One that would get them into a wealth of trouble should they dare to lock lips again.
