my lord, a pleasure to see you this evening!â The older man glanced at Miss Hawke. âAnd who is this young gentleman?â
âHis cousin,â she answered in that strange âmasculineâ voice sheâd affected. Daniel wouldnât have been fooled by it, but everyone else seemed to be. Perhaps he was simply too aware of Miss Hawkeâs femininityâÂdespite her profession and her current disguise.
âFrom Lincolnshire,â he added, as if that explained everything.
Bell nodded sagely. âIâll show you to a special table.â
âWhatâs wrong with my usual place?â Daniel demanded, glancing toward the settle near the fire.
âWell, uh . . .â Bell coughed into his hand. âIt only seats one.â
âThen fetch a chair, man.â
âOf course! If youâll indulge me and wait just a moment, Iâll . . . yes . . .â The proprietor hastened away in search of a chair.
âDo you not dine with friends?â Miss Hawke asked after they were left alone.
âNot here I donât.â There had been times that heâd taken meals with Marwood or Jonathan, but he seemed to prefer his own company when it came to dining, especially lately.
âWhy?â
He smothered a curse. It was likely a hazard of spending time with someone in her line of work that heâd be peppered frequently with questions. But perhaps there was something slightly refreshing about keeping company with a person who was genuinely curious about the world, rather than simply accepting things as facts or remaining steadfastly superficial.
And heâd opened himself up to this when heâd invited her along on his nightly activities.
âBefore the noise and bustle of the evening,â he said, holding tight to the head of his walking stick, âI enjoy . . . being alone.â Not entirely the truth, though there was a grain of veracity in it. For all the time he and Jonathan had spent together, Daniel also liked his own company, when he could be isolated within the sanctum of his thoughts.
She continued to stare at him. Clearly, his response wasnât enough to satisfy her scribblerâs curiosity.
So he continued. âThere are always so many voices around me. So many distractions. But they can get very . . . loud. Here, I can be by myself.â
âYou could be by yourself at home, too,â she pointed out.
And lonely, he thought. Something about eating by himself in that cavernous dining room that could seat two dozen guests felt as hollow as the chamber itself. He would occasionally eat in his chambers, but heâd grow too restless, too aware of his isolation.
âI like this better,â he said.
Fortunately, he was saved from the need for further explanation by the timely return of Bell. âMany apologies for the delay, my lord. All is in readiness.â
They followed the proprietor through the maze of filled tables. As Daniel and Miss Hawke progressed, heâd give an occasional nod to acquaintances, ignoring their curious glances at his companion. He supposed that Bell wasnât the only one whoâd noticed his preference for isolation, and here he was, breaking from his usual mold.
It felt . . . good.
Daniel wanted to offer Miss Hawke the settle, while he took the chair. But between him and âNed Sinclair,â he was the one with greater status, so the ruse had to take precedence over politeness. Miss Hawke sat down with an unconsciously feminine little flourish, which made him wince, but at least she remembered not to cross her legs.
âThe usual to drink, my lord?â Bell asked once theyâd been seated.
âYes, ale for me,â Daniel answered.
The proprietor turned expectantly toward Miss Hawke. She looked momentarily flustered.
âAh . . . lemonade,â she stammered. âNo, Iâm sorry. Iâll have an ale, too, thank
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