Page 60 of My Kind of Scoundel
“No. I’m only sorry we were interrupted. I suspect Aaron rode in on his metaphorical white charger intending to save my virtue.”
“He wished to prevent us both from making a mistake. He told me so when he ordered me into his study and dragged me over hot coals.”
Did Aaron fear living alone at Fortune’s Den? Did he hope Theo would set his sights on a lady, not a lowlymodiste? Despite their upbringing, the men had an aristocrat’s blood.
“For what? Seducing me on a card table?”
His slow smile became a confident grin. “You’ve been seducing me since you stormed into the theatre box, threatening to hound me night and day until I give you what you want.”
That seemed like a lifetime ago.
So much had changed since then.
“Did you get what you wanted, Eleanor?”
“Did you?”
He laughed. “I left the card room feeling like I’d emptied the Marquess of Rothley’s purse.”
“Is that a good thing?” She knew her clients found the marquess to be an enigma. The largest dowry in all Christendom would not convince him to marry. According to gossip, he was amoral. A hedonist.
“An exceptionally good thing. After our amorous interlude, I’m obsessed with plums. I’m obsessed with you, Eleanor.”
Any woman would melt upon hearing his declaration. Every heart longed to hear sweet whispers of affection. But would these intense emotions fade with time? Would their friendship survive when lust released them from its talon-like grip?
“What happened to the pie?” she said, changing the subject.
“Aaron wanted a piece but declined, saying it looked like it had been ravaged by wolves.” His voice took on a husky gravel. “I didn’t tell him it’s because we ate it without cutlery. Shall I send Sigmund to Breadwell’s and order another for tonight?”
Her pulse raced.
Last night had been magnificent, but she would be a fool to believe this affair would end well. Despite her donning steel armour, this man had stolen her heart. What hope had she of reclaiming it now?
“I meant what I said to Aaron. I must return home today.” The thought filled her with dread. “Working to find the villain must be my priority.”
He said nothing for a moment and simply stared as if she’d spoken a foreign language. “I would rather you remained at Fortune’s Den until the culprit is in custody.”
“There’s no need. Mr Gibbs will guard my premises.” She swallowed past a lump in her throat. This was harder than expected. “Perhaps we might dine together at the Pheasant once we’ve visited Emily.”
He smiled. “I’d like that.”
Pleasing Theo Chance was like waking to a beautiful day. It left every part of her being infused in a warm glow.
Theo asked his coachman to park on Water Lane so they might access the premises via the yard. Mr Franklin and the other shopkeepers doubtless had a myriad of questions, but she hadn’t the strength to deal with their interference today.
There wasn’t a shard of glass in the yard, not one weed growing between the cracks in the paving. The back door did not swing ominously back and forth in the wind. It was new and painted dark green.
Theo removed a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. “Some cultures believe green is lucky.”
She smiled though she felt like crying. How had he fixed things so quickly? “I always thought green was the colour of envy.”
“Perhaps that’s true. Every modiste in London wishesthey had your talent.” He looked at her and winked. “When a man gives you a compliment, you’re allowed to say thank you.”
She drank in his handsome countenance. “Thank you.” She would be the envy of every woman in London because she had kissed him.
They were walking past the fitting rooms when Mr Gibbs yanked back the curtain at the end of the corridor and growled like a bear. “Who goes there?” He met Theo’s gaze and glanced heavenward. “Only thieves and beggars sneak in through the back door. You should have said you were coming. I might have shot first and asked questions later.”
“You’re not holding a pistol,” Theo countered.
