Page 17 of Lord Appleby's Gorgeous Imposter
“‘Every woman should have one defensive skill.’” She quoted him directly.
He chuckled. “So they got nothing?”
“One carried off my reticule, my money, and my lovely little pistol.”And my necessary arsenic in Charmaine’s étui.“But he got not a hair on my head, nor Alice’s either.”
“Commendable.”
“Thank you.”
She gave him no more, and they rode in a companionable silence.
“Whatever you plan here,” he said with sudden pain in his voice, “it is not wise.”
She would not grace him with another refutation. Plus he knew her so well that she was putting up a front.
“Diane is gone. Your mother and father. Any friends the family had are most likely not alive to comfort or help you.”
That she knew. Had known all along. She was alone in this.
“And where is yourotherfamily member, hmm?” He was tight lipped with anger, then reached out and grabbed her reins.
Her horse halted.
She caught back a gulp. “Stop this.” To her horror, that was not an order, but almost a plea.
His hand went from the reins to cover her fingers. His were long, strong as iron, and covered in blood-red leather. “This is Paris, my girl.”
She bristled at being hisgirl. Once she had yearned for it. Now, she was inured to his charms. Totally. “What of it?”
“This is not Norfolk and the quiet of your cottage.”
His words made her ache for the serenity of the land she’d left behind. The rustle of wind through the lindens and oaks. Rain as it pattered on the slates before her little blue door. The sweet lowing of cattle. The brays of Fred her old donkey and the ripe smells of her chickens and ducks. “It certainly is not.”
“You know nothing of the dangers here.” He spoke rapidly in English. “Nor of the profession you have adopted. In London, an actress might avoid the toffs who would toss a girl for a penny. Here they are tough to tame. This city is filled with different menaces, even after all these years, for one who bears blood so blue.”
“You do not frighten me,” she said, tipping up her chin. Of course, she lied.
He blew out air and gave up his hold on her. “I will be near.”
If he acted the swain, he’d scare off those she needed to attract. “I don’t want you near.”
“Has that changed?” He sounded…gutted.
“It never was,” she blurted, and cursed herself for it. He shocked her with such a statement, and she could not allow him to become more to her than…he’d ever been. A friend. Just a friend.
“A bit of acting? Don’t, my darling.”
“I am not your—”
“You are. Now that I have found you—”
“You can leave me, Tate. Please, just go.” She could not have hm near her. He knew not what she’d agreed to do. She could not have him learn. He’d hate her.
His thick, caramel-colored lashes flickered. His chiseled features, so manly with his added years, at once resembled stone. He was flummoxed because she had never shut him out. Too sad for her sore heart that she’d been so silly. “I will return.”
“You’ll find nothing,” she said, praying her acting skill proved her words.
“You hope,” he muttered.
