A Talent for Trouble by Jen Turano Page A

rapidly from the restaurant.

6

    T hree long days after storming out of the restaurant, Grayson was coming to the uncomfortable realization he was a coward. Quite frankly, after trailing behind Felicia for several hours in the slums of New York, never allowing his horse to catch up with her so that he could actually apologize to her, there was no other explanation. Cowardice was exactly why he was currently lurking behind a parked delivery wagon, watching Felicia from a distance as she chatted with a group of ladies who were clearly ladies of the night.
    That she seemed remarkably comfortable around such women was beyond disturbing. She had no business even being in this part of town, let alone unescorted.
    Where were her brothers? Did they even know their sister apparently spent a great deal of her time in the slums? Her comfort in the midst of squalor and her ability to mingle comfortably with ladies society deemed unacceptable was concerning.
    He edged his horse forward but then brought it to a stop when one of the ladies let out a peal of laughter, pulled out a gownfrom a bag in Felicia’s cart, and shook out a garment of red and green that Grayson distinctly remembered Felicia wearing at the ball her mother had given that past Christmas.
    It was suddenly evident that, not only was she delivering baskets of food to the needy today, she was also distributing her old wardrobe, something that caused an odd pang to settle in the region of his heart.
    He liked her old clothes. They were unusual to be sure, but they effectively hid her figure from view. And that would have come in handy today, seeing as how as she’d traversed through the streets of the city, she’d commanded far too much attention from every gentleman who happened to catch sight of her.
    There’d been numerous times he’d reached for his pistol in order to come to her aid, but instead of displaying any menacing attitudes toward her, the gentlemen—and he used that term loosely—all showed her a distinct measure of respect. That was probably a direct result of the fact that Felicia’s goodness practically oozed out of her every pore, but it had also reminded him that she was far too good to spend any of her time with the likes of him.
    â€œHave a good day.”
    Grayson blinked and then frowned when he realized Felicia was already back on the road, waving goodbye to the ladies of the night as she set Thor into motion, steering him into the crowded street.
    He kneed his horse and directed him into traffic, keeping a close eye on Felicia as she and Thor plodded along, apparently unaware that they were causing carriages and wagons to pile up in a line behind them.
    The slowness of Thor’s gait made it incredibly easy to watch her, however, while giving him plenty of time to think.
    It seemed ages ago since he’d fled the restaurant and subsequently buried himself inside his house with only Mingand his army of nannies and servants to keep him company. During the first two days, he’d descended into what could only be described as a fit of the sulks, staring morosely out the window as life passed him by and refusing all company, including his sister.
    Eliza hadn’t seemed exactly thrilled when she’d stomped out of his house after he’d had his butler tell her he was indisposed. In fact, as he’d peered through a crack in the curtain, she’d lifted her head, shook a finger directly in his direction, as if she’d known he’d been spying on her, and then marched back to her carriage. She’d flung herself inside and sent him one last shaking of her finger through the window.
    He’d spent the majority of his time after Eliza had taken her leave feeling very put upon and annoyed with the world, or more specifically, Felicia, but then something had gradually begun to change. Embarrassment replaced the annoyance, which had led him to some less-than-comfortable conclusions.
    For one, he was