breath caught, then she swung to face him, periwinkle blue eyes wide.
He trapped her gaze. “What happened last night, especially those moments on the path, is between you and me.”
When she continued to stare at him, searching his eyes, he elaborated, “Kissing you and telling anyone is not within my code, and definitely not my style.”
He saw the flash of reaction in her eyes, saw her consider asking, waspishly, just what his style was, but caution caught her tongue; she raised her head, haughtily inclined it as she looked away.
The moment was going to turn awkward, and he still hadn’t thought of any approach likely to deflect her from the burglaries. Casting about in his mind, he looked past her. And saw the house beyond the garden wall, the house next door, which also, like Number 12, shared a wall with Number 14.
“Who lives there?”
She glanced up, followed his gaze. “Old Miss Timmins.”
“She lives alone?”
“With a maid.”
He looked down into Leonora’s eyes; they were already filled with speculation. “I’d like to call on Miss Timmins. Will you introduce me?”
She was only too happy to do so. To leave the disconcerting moment in the garden—her thudding heart had yet toslow to its normal rhythm—and plunge instead into further investigations. By Trentham’s side.
Quite why she found his company so stimulating Leonora didn’t know. She wasn’t even sure she approved, or that her Aunt Mildred, let alone her Aunt Gertie, would either, if they knew. He was, after all, a military man. Young girls might have their heads turned by broad shoulders and a magnificent uniform, but ladies such as she were supposed to be too wise to fall victim to such gentlemen’s wiles. They were invariably second sons, or sons of second sons, looking to make their way in the world through an advantageous marriage…except Trentham was now an earl.
Inwardly, she frowned. Presumably that excused him from the general prohibition.
Regardless, as she walked briskly down the street beside him, her gloved hand on his sleeve, the sense of his strength engulfing her, the excitement of the hunt simmering in her veins, there was no question in her mind but that she felt immeasurably more alive when with him.
When she’d heard he’d called, she’d panicked. She’d felt sure he had come to complain of her infraction in going into Number 12 last night. And possibly, even worse, to mention—in whatever manner—their indiscretion on the path. Instead, he’d made not the slightest allusion to her part in the night’s activities; even though she was sure he’d sensed her agitation, he’d said and done nothing to tease her.
She’d expected a lot worse from a military man.
Reaching the gate of Number 16, Trentham swung it wide, and they went through, walking up the path and climbing the steps to the small front porch side by side. She pulled the bell, heard it ring deep within the house, smaller than Number 14, a terrace similar in style to Number 12.
Footsteps pattered, approaching, then came the soundof bolts being drawn back. The door opened a little way; a sweet-faced maid peeped out.
Leonora smiled. “Good morning, Daisy. I know it’s a trifle early, but if Miss Timmins can spare a few minutes, we have a new neighbor, the Earl of Trentham, who’d like to make her acquaintance.”
Daisy’s eyes had grown round as she took in Trentham, standing blocking the sunlight at Leonora’s side. “Oh, yes, miss. I’m sure she’ll see you—she always likes to know what’s going on.” Opening the door fully, Daisy waved them in. “If you’ll wait in the morning room, I’ll tell her you’re here.”
Leonora led the way into the morning room and sat on the chaise.
Trentham didn’t sit. He paced. Prowled. Looking at the windows.
Examining the locks.
She frowned. “What—”
She broke off as Daisy hurried back in. “She says as she’ll be delighted to receive you.” She bobbed to Trentham.
He trapped her gaze. “What happened last night, especially those moments on the path, is between you and me.”
When she continued to stare at him, searching his eyes, he elaborated, “Kissing you and telling anyone is not within my code, and definitely not my style.”
He saw the flash of reaction in her eyes, saw her consider asking, waspishly, just what his style was, but caution caught her tongue; she raised her head, haughtily inclined it as she looked away.
The moment was going to turn awkward, and he still hadn’t thought of any approach likely to deflect her from the burglaries. Casting about in his mind, he looked past her. And saw the house beyond the garden wall, the house next door, which also, like Number 12, shared a wall with Number 14.
“Who lives there?”
She glanced up, followed his gaze. “Old Miss Timmins.”
“She lives alone?”
“With a maid.”
He looked down into Leonora’s eyes; they were already filled with speculation. “I’d like to call on Miss Timmins. Will you introduce me?”
She was only too happy to do so. To leave the disconcerting moment in the garden—her thudding heart had yet toslow to its normal rhythm—and plunge instead into further investigations. By Trentham’s side.
Quite why she found his company so stimulating Leonora didn’t know. She wasn’t even sure she approved, or that her Aunt Mildred, let alone her Aunt Gertie, would either, if they knew. He was, after all, a military man. Young girls might have their heads turned by broad shoulders and a magnificent uniform, but ladies such as she were supposed to be too wise to fall victim to such gentlemen’s wiles. They were invariably second sons, or sons of second sons, looking to make their way in the world through an advantageous marriage…except Trentham was now an earl.
Inwardly, she frowned. Presumably that excused him from the general prohibition.
Regardless, as she walked briskly down the street beside him, her gloved hand on his sleeve, the sense of his strength engulfing her, the excitement of the hunt simmering in her veins, there was no question in her mind but that she felt immeasurably more alive when with him.
When she’d heard he’d called, she’d panicked. She’d felt sure he had come to complain of her infraction in going into Number 12 last night. And possibly, even worse, to mention—in whatever manner—their indiscretion on the path. Instead, he’d made not the slightest allusion to her part in the night’s activities; even though she was sure he’d sensed her agitation, he’d said and done nothing to tease her.
She’d expected a lot worse from a military man.
Reaching the gate of Number 16, Trentham swung it wide, and they went through, walking up the path and climbing the steps to the small front porch side by side. She pulled the bell, heard it ring deep within the house, smaller than Number 14, a terrace similar in style to Number 12.
Footsteps pattered, approaching, then came the soundof bolts being drawn back. The door opened a little way; a sweet-faced maid peeped out.
Leonora smiled. “Good morning, Daisy. I know it’s a trifle early, but if Miss Timmins can spare a few minutes, we have a new neighbor, the Earl of Trentham, who’d like to make her acquaintance.”
Daisy’s eyes had grown round as she took in Trentham, standing blocking the sunlight at Leonora’s side. “Oh, yes, miss. I’m sure she’ll see you—she always likes to know what’s going on.” Opening the door fully, Daisy waved them in. “If you’ll wait in the morning room, I’ll tell her you’re here.”
Leonora led the way into the morning room and sat on the chaise.
Trentham didn’t sit. He paced. Prowled. Looking at the windows.
Examining the locks.
She frowned. “What—”
She broke off as Daisy hurried back in. “She says as she’ll be delighted to receive you.” She bobbed to Trentham.
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