Page 111 of The Lyon Whisperer
She smoothed her skirts unnecessarily. “At which time I made an appointment for today, in hopes Mr. Hoby would have located a jacquard print.”
He was torn between fascination and fulminating anger.
Her shoulders slumped slightly. “All my plotting, and to no avail. When I entered the tailor’s establishment today, Mr. Hoby made it clear he did not welcome my business.”
Chase sat bolt upright. “The hell you say.”
“After a time, he expressed a measure of contrition about his decision, though he remained firm.”
“After a time?” he prodded.
She slanted him a wary glance. “Lord Peppersham entered his shop as I was leaving.”
“Lord Peppersham?”
“An old friend of my father’s.”
He resisted the urge to groan again. “He recognized you? Alone, in the shop?”
She bit her lower lip and nodded. “I do not think he realized I was on my own. He likely assumed my maid awaited me outside.”
He took a deep, calming breath. It did not help.
“After I left, Mr. Hoby followed me out. He said…” She scrunched her brow in concentration and the pink tip of her tongue darted out to dab at the corner of her mouth. “He apologized and claimed he had no choice in the matter.”
“No choice? What the devil does that mean?”
She parted her hands. “I considered going back inside to ask him, but…”
He heaved a sigh. “Peppersham.”
She sent him an approving smile. “Precisely.” She flicked a glance at the passing scenery, then her head snapped to stare out the small, open window. “My lord, Geoffrey seems to have gotten turned around. We’re heading away from Mayfair, not toward it.”
“No, madam. He’s heading in the right direction. We are going home.”
“What? But, my friends—”
“I took care of sending word to Lady Harriet informing her you would not be participating in today’s meeting.”
Her mouth gaped open. His wife was, for once, shocked speechless, and not bothering to hide it.
The momentary lapse was short-lived. “Of all the unscrupulous, underhanded undertakings. We had an agreement, sir. I’m to be permitted to continue my club meetings without censure.”
“Mayhap, next time you set out to lie to me, you’ll think twice. As it happens, I’m missing the bulk ofmymeeting, too busy dealing with your shenanigans to see to my responsibilities.”
Unless one counted his responsibility to take care of his wife. He’d very nearly botched that, and he hadn’t been married a month.
He’d known she was in danger—or edging toward it. Somehow, he’d known.
Her expression turned doleful. “It wasn’t a lie. I would never lie to you.”
He gazed at her in amazement.
“I wanted to help. I thought…” She shook her head. “Never mind.”
“Help? Hell and damnation, woman. I do not know where to begin. I suppose, for starters, I must apparently procure your solemn promise never to put yourself—and your reputation—at such a risk again. Why on earth you went off half-cocked on your own to investigate matters that do not pertain to you baffles me.”
She blinked at him and spoke in a small voice. “As the arson pertains to you, I felt it pertained to me. I wanted to help,” she repeated.
