Page 18 of Evil at the Essex House
He opened the door and seated me, carefully. And then he finally, reluctantly, withdrew his hand from mine before he shut the door behind me. “I look forward to seeing you again, Philippa.”
“Likewise,” I breathed, “Wolfgang.”
He clicked his heels together and bowed sharply one last time, one hand spread over his heart. And then Crispin, giving in to his bad mood, took his foot off the clutch and stomped on the gas pedal, and the Hispano-Suiza took off from the entrance to the Savoy with a roar that scattered car park assistants and pedestrians and enveloped Wolfgang in a cloud of exhaust as we shot onto The Strand and away.
I giggled, of course. It was impossible not to.
Admittedly, it took me a minute to get to that point—my heart had jumped into my throat as soon as he started driving, and it took a few seconds to force it back down where it belonged—but once we were a couple of blocks away from the Savoy and he had slowed to a more decorous pace, much more suitable for the busy London streets, I told him, amused, “I had no idea your jealousy extended so far, St George.”
He slanted me a look of dislike from under lowered brows. “Don’t be ridiculous, Darling. I’m not jealous.”
“No? What would you call it, then?”
He sniffed. “Concern. Obviously.”
“Concern? You looked ready to call him out.”
He shot me another look, this one with less dislike and more incredulity. “Call him out? To a duel, do you mean? Have you lost your mind, Darling? You think I would duel another man for you? Especially one who looks like that?”
“Looks like…? Oh, you noticed the bragging scar, did you?”
“Who wouldn’t?” Crispin said. “The Germans were mad for them before the war, apparently. Thought it made them look brave.”
He sneered.
I wanted to sneer back—it’s automatic—but I found I couldn’t. “I imagine they’ve learned better now.” After a war that had resulted in far more grievous injuries than neat slices across the cheeks.
“My father had one,” I added.
Crispin flicked me a look. “A dueling scar?”
I nodded. “I’d forgotten all about it until now. But he did. It was smaller than Wolfgang’s, and a bit lower. About…” I reached over and dragged a fingertip along his jaw, “—here.”
If that sounds flirtatious, or like I took an opportunity to touch him because I wanted to, I can assure you that such was the furthest thing from my mind. I simply didn’t want him to take his eyes off the road for something as frivolous as watching me point to the place on my own face.
And yes, perhaps there was a small part of me that wanted to see his reaction. Last month, at Beckwith Place, I had put my hand on his cheek for a moment, as part of a (if I do say so myself) rather well calculated bit of tit-for-tat, and he had practically stopped breathing. So I’ll admit I wanted to see if I could do it again.
I couldn’t, although for a second he didn’t say a word. Then he cleared his throat. “No offense, Darling, but I’m not risking my pretty face for you.”
“How deplorably ungentlemanly of you,” I told him, and folded my hands in my lap.
“Well, he’s aGraf, isn’t he, and I’m a lowly Viscount.” The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. “I suppose it’s all right if I’m not as much of a gentleman as he is.”
“He put you in your place rather neatly,” I said, “didn’t he?”
“He was certainly rude enough about it,” Crispin agreed. “And you did nothing to defend my honor. This is the last time I’ll come to your rescue, Darling.”
“I shall certainly hope so,” I told him. “What you ‘rescued’ me from was in all probability something I would have enjoyed.”
He sneered. “Wanted the handsome count to kiss you, did you?”
I rolled my eyes right back. “As if you have any room to talk, St George. You’ll kiss any girl who’ll let you.”
He didn’t respond to that, and I added, “I wasn’t going to go upstairs with him. Christopher made it clear that I was to go nowhere that wasn’t public. Not up to his room, not into a cab, nowhere.”
Crispin muttered something. I think it might have been, “Good for Kit.”
“Ridiculous,” I said. “I can’t believe Christopher talked you into?—”
