Page 17 of The Last Chance
His gaze moved over her hair. “Are you equipped for an outing? You packed in a hurry, and your valise seemed light. Despite pleading poverty, you always dress in the current fashions.”
His veiled dig was a means of gathering information about her private affairs. While she had nothing to hide, she decided to tease him. “I’m surprised you noticed me. When did you develop an interest in ladies’ apparel?”
“I have no interest in anything but running my club, and learnt to be observant at a young age.” Despite the determined set of his jaw, he wasn’t being truthful.
“And your family. You care deeply about them.”
That’s when his guard slipped. When the warmth of tender thoughts softened his gaze, she glimpsed his unwavering love for his siblings.
It tightened her throat and stole her breath.
Beneath this hard exterior lived a man who knew the value of love. It was more attractive than his muscular chest and desirable lips. It spoke to her in a way his handsome features never could.
“I’d die for them,” he uttered before hiding himself again.
“Yes, I believe you would.”
Eager to change the subject, he said, “Did you bring a bonnet? You’ll need an elegant one if we’re walking together and the backbone to hold your head high. People will make assumptions.”
A chuckle escaped her. “You don’t need to concern yourselfwith my reputation. What do you think people say about an unmarried woman who runs a ladies’ club?” Some were brazen enough to call her names and cross the street.
“They’d better say nothing when you’re with me.”
Joanna put her hand to her chest. Such comments softened a woman’s heart. “I imagine most people will be too terrified to look in our direction. But I can call at the milliner’s on Bishopsgate. I was so weary last night I’m not sure what I threw into my valise.”
He stood abruptly. “Write your notes, and Sigmund will deliver them. I suggest we meet your friends at five at Pickins coffeehouse. It will ruin their future prospects if they’re seen entering a men’s club.”
Again, his concerns were not for himself.
How intriguing.
“I’ll write to them now, then fetch my pelisse. I’m sure Mrs Shaw at the milliner’s will have a hat to suit me. She knows what style I like.”
“Have her send the bill here.”
“I can pay for my own hat, Mr Chance.” Being skilled with a needle and thread, she often took work home for Mrs Shaw. The extra funds helped to keep her father’s creditors at bay.
“As I demanded you wear one, I insist on footing the bill.” He rolled down his shirtsleeves, an action that would have any woman reaching for a fan. “I’ll visit Baptiste and have him make a basket for the journey. You need to eat. I’ll not have you fainting midway through an interview.”
“I prayed you’d not heard my stomach growling.”
“As I said, I’m nothing if not observant.” He snatched his coat from the back of the chair and thrust his muscular arms into the sleeves. “Be ready in thirty minutes. I’m just as pedantic about timekeeping.” And then he strode out of the room, though his presence lingered.
Joanna relaxed back in the chair and took a calming breath.
This situation was becoming problematic. It was easy to feel like his equal when trying to prove a point. She could hold her own when tempers were frayed. But these rare glimpses of kindness were like discovering diamonds buried deep in dark rock—too astonishing to put into words. And his tailor needed a knighthood. Anyone who designed a coat that hugged a man like a second skin deserved some credit.
Worse still, Mr Chance made her feel like a helpless child, not a woman who’d taken command of her own destiny.
Something had to change.
Somehow, she had to turn the tide.
“Good heavens, have you tried your cook’s pastries?” Seated in Mr Chance’s elegant carriage and wearing her new pillbox hat in imperial blue, Joanna licked cream from her lips. “They’re the most divine thing I’ve ever tasted.”
Mr Chance didn’t tear his gaze from the window, though there was nothing exciting happening outside. “Why do you think I pay Baptiste double what he would earn elsewhere?”
Joanna hummed with satisfaction. She knew he found it irritating. “Would you mind finishing what’s left of this croissant? I want to try the sugar-coated one next. It’s simply begging me to take a bite.”
