Page 96 of My Kind of Scoundel
“Miss Darrow? Why are you not at home in bed?”
“Mr Franklin? Is that you? Oh, thank heavens. I thought you were one of those foul men from the merchant ships.”
Wrotham was hiding in the shop, probably ducking behind the oak counter filled with dried herbs and pots of salve.
Franklin didn’t move but continued blocking the doorway. “I thought I saw a thief entering Mr Walker’s premises but was mistaken. I vowed to keep an eye on things while he’s away in Oxford.”
“That’s extremely good of you, sir. How is Anna? I can spare time tomorrow if she would like company.”
Excellent! Keep him talking.
“She woke for a little while and managed a few spoonfuls of vegetable broth. It’s our grandmother’s recipe and works wonders for an ailing constitution.”
“You’ll have to give me the recipe.”
“I’m sure Anna will when she’s recovered.”
An awkward silence ensued.
Eleanor shifted her feet. “If all is well, I should return home.”
Franklin gave an odd hum. “I would have expected to see Mr Gibbs. Does he know you’ve ventured out alone?”
Eleanor chuckled. “Oh, the poor man has barely slept these last few days. He had a second helping of stew and nodded off in the chair.”
“And you did not think to wake him?” Suspicion coated Franklin’s words. “I doubt he would approve of you sneaking about in the dark.”
Theo feared she would stumble, but she spoke with confidence. “He’ll be furious. I should return before he wakes. Don’t mention my midnight adventure if you speak to him.”
Unable to fight his attraction to her, Franklin stepped forward. “I’ll escort you home. The fog has settled. There’s no telling who’s lurking about out there. This street isn’t safe for a woman living alone.”
The knots in Theo’s stomach tightened. If Franklin laid a hand on her, he would gut him like a fish.
Franklin did lay a hand on her. More than one. He clasped Eleanor’s upper arms and rubbed gently. Theo would have charged at the devil were it not for Aaron tugging his coat.
“I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt, Eleanor.” Despite the intimate use of her given name, the remark carried a veiled threat. Franklin must have sensed her fear. “You’re afraid of me.”
“Afraid? No, I’m not,” she said in a playful tone.
“You flinched when I touched you.”
“Because you’re not usually so familiar.”
“You’re lying. You looked over my shoulder as if you’d seen someone inside the shop. How long were you lingering outside?”
Wrotham didn’t give her time to answer. He suspected she had come to spy and called to Franklin. “Bring her here. Don’t let her feminine wiles sway you. We cannot afford a mistake.”
Franklin froze and muttered, “I’ve hurt one woman. I’ll not hurt another.” He bowed his head. “Run, Eleanor. Go, before it’s too late.” When Eleanor failed to move, Franklin said, “I am escorting Miss Darrow home. We will continue this conversation when I return.”
Wrotham appeared in the darkness, a few feet behind Franklin. “If you leave, I’ll expect your full co-operation. You’ll fulfil one more order.” A mocking chuckle escaped him. “Women are your weakness, not mine.”
Wrotham sounded like a seasoned criminal, not a dandy whose valet dressed him each morning. Unlike London’smost dangerous rogues, his lackey wasn’t afraid of him. They had reached a stalemate.
Theo’s heart pounded in his chest.
One snap decision, and Franklin could break Eleanor’s neck. Indeed, he stared at her as if in a trance, unsure what to do.
“You’ll dangle from the scaffold if you fail to deal with her,” Wrotham’s bitter voice echoed from the darkness. “End it now. I’ll take care of things. I shall be the one to tell my cousin his betrothed has met her maker.”
