would complain about the connection.’
She did not waver. ‘And is he usually sending you to inform his new friends of their good fortune?’
Flynn wrinkled his brow. She did not seem pleased at all at Tanner’s interest. Why? Her father and that other female certainly relished the potential connection.
He must convince her she would do well under Tanner’s protection. She would certainly have more freedom than she appeared to have in her father’s house, with the shrill Miss Dawes bullying her.
But the image that rose in his mind was not of her with Tanner, but of her standing on a green hillside, wind billowing through her skirts and hair.
He mentally shook himself. Somehow he maintained his direct gaze. ‘The marquess involves me if he feels it would best please the lady to do so.’ He reached into his coat pocket. ‘To show his good intentions, the marquess wishes to bestow upon you a small gift.’
Flynn pulled out a velvet box. She glanced in alarm at the door behind which her father and Miss Dawes were certainly eavesdropping. She stilled his hand. ‘No gifts,’ she whispered, slanting her eyes towards the door again. ‘Please.’
Flynn’s hand paused in mid-air, her touch branding his skin. Silently he nodded, slipping the box back in his pocket.
‘A gift would be very nice indeed,’ she said, raising her voice.
‘Then you shall have one very soon,’ he said.
Rose returned her hand to her lap, her breath coming rapidly. Her hand still tingled from touching him, and all her insides felt like melted candle wax.
He had played along with her wish not to have her father or Letty hear of a gift. If he had not, Letty would be badgering her for days to get her hands on a gift from a marquess. And to keep peace, her father would implore her to give in. The other gifts gentlemen left for her—gifts that ought to have been returned—made their way into Letty’s possession or were sold to buy some other trinket she desired.
Rose tried to show Mr Flynn her gratitude with a look, but had to avert her gaze from the intensity of his startling blue eyes.
When Letty had come to fetch her, saying the marquess’s secretary had arrived, Rose had been relieved she would not have to refuse a marquess to his face, especially if he were indeed the man who’d so captivated her. But the man who captivated her was his secretary and was Irish, and, even more wonderful, he’d become a momentary ally.
He was very handsome up close, with his commanding gaze. His hair and brows were nearly as dark as her own. She loved the firmness of his jaw and the decisive set to his sinfully sensuous mouth. What would it be like to touch her lips to his?
Rose mentally shook herself. She was thinking like a romantic, making this into a story like the novels she enjoyed reading, the ones that wove wonderful stories of love. This man had not come to court her, but to procure her for his employer.
Even so, his blue eyes continued to enslave her.
‘The marquess is a good man, Miss O’Keefe,’ he said.
She peered back at him. ‘Mr Flynn, why do you tie this up in pretty words? Do you not mean the marquess is wishing me to be his mistress? Is that not what this is about? Is that not the kind of “friend” he wishes me to be?’
A muscle flexed in Mr Flynn’s jaw, but his gaze held. ‘To be such a friend of this man has many advantages. He can assist you. Protect you.’
Rose’s gaze slipped back to the door that hid her father and Letty. They both certainly wanted her to accept the marquess’s protection. And his money.
He looked to the door, as well. ‘Will you need protection, Miss O’Keefe?’ His voice was soft and low. And concerned.
She glanced back in surprise and gave a light laugh. ‘I shall experience no difficulties, I assure you.’
Letty was as unpleasant as a woman could be, and her father was completely under her thumb, but Rose did not feel they yielded that much authority over her. She liked living with her father, making up a little for all the years that had separated them.
‘You could allow the marquess to help you,’ he said.
She reached over to grasp his hand in reassurance but stopped herself midway. ‘I’ll be needing no help.’ She added, ‘All I want is to sing …’
He seized on those words. ‘Lord Tannerton could help you—’
She put up her hand, regretting she had spoken. ‘I require no help. Do not be worrying yourself over me.’
Their eyes connected, and it felt like butterflies took possession of her insides.
‘Thank the marquess for me,’ she said in a loud voice. ‘It was good of you to come.’ She stood and walked towards the door.
It took a moment for him to follow her. ‘I do not understand you, Miss O’Keefe,’ he said, his voice no more than an urgent whisper. ‘Why do you hesitate?’
She handed him his hat and gloves. ‘Good day to you, Mr Flynn.’ She opened the door.
He started to walk through it, but turned and grasped her hand in his. ‘Welcome or not, Miss O’Keefe, you do have a friend.’
He released her and swiftly took his leave. Rose brushed her hand against her cheek, wishing the friend were not the marquess but Mr Flynn himself.
Chapter Three
Flynn paused a moment when he reached the street, puzzled by this experience. The times he’d risked huge amounts of Tanner’s wealth on some tenuous business matter, he’d been in better control. Nothing had gone as he’d expected. Worse, his senses were still awhirl. Merely looking at the girl had been enough to throw his rationality out of the window.
With no idea what to tell Tanner, he straightened his hat and started walking in the direction of Covent Garden to find a hack.
‘Mr Flynn!’ he heard behind him.
Turning, he saw Mr O’Keefe running toward him. Flynn stopped.
The older man caught up to him, breathing hard. ‘Letty said—I mean—I wanted a word with you.’
Flynn merely waited.
‘Tell … tell the marquess how flattered we are—my daughter is, I mean—at his kind interest.’
‘I will tell him.’ Although, if Flynn did tell Tanner this, he’d be lying. The daughter did not seem flattered in the least.
Mr O’Keefe’s mouth twisted into an apologetic smile. ‘My Rose is a sensible girl,’ he said, a fond look appearing in his eye. ‘She’ll just need some persuading.’
Flynn regarded this man who looked as if a strong wind might blow him away. Flynn could not see him persuading his daughter about anything. The unpleasant Miss Dawes, however, was another matter.
‘I must leave.’
