blonde step through the doorway. Now, there was one worth watching, he thought as she walked gracefully down the stairs. Why, that golden hair shone in the lamplight just like an angel’s, but the way her dress fell around that body...
The rest of Tim’s thoughts had nothing to do with heaven. Impulsively, he stepped from the shadows to hand her into the carriage, eager for the lady’s touch and hoping for a smile.
It was granted. "Thank you," the angel murmured, and that was all the invitation Tim needed to loosen his own tongue.
"You are quite welcome, miss. And let me wish you a fine evening," he said, grinning from ear to ear. And rather than brushing him off, as some fine ladies might, she gave him another, more genuine, smile that left him gaping after her.
When the coach door shut behind her, Tim slipped back into the shadows. But his thief’s sixth sense warned that he might have been marked, and he groaned at the sight of Duprey standing at the entrance eyeing the departing coach. Now there would be hell to pay! Not only had Tim been seen, but it looked as if Duprey was coming after him.
Sure enough, His Nibs was moving down the steps, and that was all Tim waited to see, taking flight into the darkness as if the very hounds of hell were on his tail.
***
Seeing the wiry fellow disappear into the night, Ransom turned back toward the house, mulling over the scene he had just witnessed. Having recognized the bright red hair from earlier in the evening, he’d watched the man’s exchange with Miss Amberly with interest.
Perhaps there was no connection between the two, but Ransom was not a believer in coincidence. Was she, too, one of Devlin’s minions? It would not be the first time his nemesis had sent a woman to spy on him, but this one was certainly not the same sort as the “widow” who’d carried the clap. No, this one was definitely different.
Ransom felt a twinge of disappointment, for he’d thought Miss Amberly unusual - quite refreshing, in fact. He’d even contemplated taking the time from his busy enterprises to pursue an acquaintance with her.
But even then he’d wondered about the beauty. Although she’d denied meeting him before, she appeared to know him or know of him, and there was something oddly familiar about her.
Ransom’s expression hardened. He’d been searching unsuccessfully for Devlin for some time, the man’s increasingly criminal activities forcing him underground. But perhaps these two could provide a clue as to their employer’s whereabouts.
Although the red-haired fellow had made his escape, Miss Amberly might give him in the information he sought. And she would undoubtedly prove to be more interesting company.
***
Cat tried to concentrate on cutting gladioli, but her hands kept falling idle as she went over her encounter with Ransom in her mind and came up with better retorts. The bonnet Amelia had insisted she wear fell unheeded down her back, and tendrils of hair escaped from their proper place to curl about her face as Cat knelt before the flowers. The air was hot and still, the silence broken only by the occasional raucous sounds of the frigate birds and a few stray gulls.
Amelia was bustling about the roses, her gloves lying forgotten on the pebbled walk. "Catherine, please put on your bonnet,” she said. “Your face is already brown as a berry."
"Oh, aunt, don’t scold," Cat said. "The sun feels so nice." She raised her face to catch its warmth as she spoke. "I love the out-of-doors. Why dress to suit some silly fashion in your own garden?" Before her aunt could answer, she continued. "Besides, you’ve left off your gloves again."
"Why, so I have, and you have, too, my dear. What a pair we are! I’ve lived too far from society for too long to chaperon you properly." Amelia shook her head as she retrieved her gloves.
"I think we are delightfully suited. And I don’t give a fig for society," Cat said.
"Oh, dear. You can say that, but you don’t
The rest of Tim’s thoughts had nothing to do with heaven. Impulsively, he stepped from the shadows to hand her into the carriage, eager for the lady’s touch and hoping for a smile.
It was granted. "Thank you," the angel murmured, and that was all the invitation Tim needed to loosen his own tongue.
"You are quite welcome, miss. And let me wish you a fine evening," he said, grinning from ear to ear. And rather than brushing him off, as some fine ladies might, she gave him another, more genuine, smile that left him gaping after her.
When the coach door shut behind her, Tim slipped back into the shadows. But his thief’s sixth sense warned that he might have been marked, and he groaned at the sight of Duprey standing at the entrance eyeing the departing coach. Now there would be hell to pay! Not only had Tim been seen, but it looked as if Duprey was coming after him.
Sure enough, His Nibs was moving down the steps, and that was all Tim waited to see, taking flight into the darkness as if the very hounds of hell were on his tail.
***
Seeing the wiry fellow disappear into the night, Ransom turned back toward the house, mulling over the scene he had just witnessed. Having recognized the bright red hair from earlier in the evening, he’d watched the man’s exchange with Miss Amberly with interest.
Perhaps there was no connection between the two, but Ransom was not a believer in coincidence. Was she, too, one of Devlin’s minions? It would not be the first time his nemesis had sent a woman to spy on him, but this one was certainly not the same sort as the “widow” who’d carried the clap. No, this one was definitely different.
Ransom felt a twinge of disappointment, for he’d thought Miss Amberly unusual - quite refreshing, in fact. He’d even contemplated taking the time from his busy enterprises to pursue an acquaintance with her.
But even then he’d wondered about the beauty. Although she’d denied meeting him before, she appeared to know him or know of him, and there was something oddly familiar about her.
Ransom’s expression hardened. He’d been searching unsuccessfully for Devlin for some time, the man’s increasingly criminal activities forcing him underground. But perhaps these two could provide a clue as to their employer’s whereabouts.
Although the red-haired fellow had made his escape, Miss Amberly might give him in the information he sought. And she would undoubtedly prove to be more interesting company.
***
Cat tried to concentrate on cutting gladioli, but her hands kept falling idle as she went over her encounter with Ransom in her mind and came up with better retorts. The bonnet Amelia had insisted she wear fell unheeded down her back, and tendrils of hair escaped from their proper place to curl about her face as Cat knelt before the flowers. The air was hot and still, the silence broken only by the occasional raucous sounds of the frigate birds and a few stray gulls.
Amelia was bustling about the roses, her gloves lying forgotten on the pebbled walk. "Catherine, please put on your bonnet,” she said. “Your face is already brown as a berry."
"Oh, aunt, don’t scold," Cat said. "The sun feels so nice." She raised her face to catch its warmth as she spoke. "I love the out-of-doors. Why dress to suit some silly fashion in your own garden?" Before her aunt could answer, she continued. "Besides, you’ve left off your gloves again."
"Why, so I have, and you have, too, my dear. What a pair we are! I’ve lived too far from society for too long to chaperon you properly." Amelia shook her head as she retrieved her gloves.
"I think we are delightfully suited. And I don’t give a fig for society," Cat said.
"Oh, dear. You can say that, but you don’t
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