taken up their cause, both her life and Merry’s had been at risk.
‘It is most kind of you, Mr Read. However, rather than put you to such trouble, I will hire outriders for the journey back.’
His face hardened as if he had received some sort of insult. ‘If that is your preference, then please ensure you do.’
She had not intended an insult, but surely he had better things, more important things, to do than serve as her escort? She bit back the urge to apologise. If he was insulted, he would likely leave her in peace. The longer she spent in his company, the more likely he was to remember he had met her before. She’d seen the puzzlement in his eyes as he tried to figure out why she looked familiar on the occasion of their first meeting. She had no wish to remind him or to reminisce about old times. Or old acquaintances. She repressed a shudder. And she certainly did not want him anywhere near her son.
He started walking again. He had long legs and towered over her by a good eight inches, but he adjusted his stride to the length of her steps. It was the mark of a well-bred gentleman. Or a man intent on making a good impression.
‘How is Thomas?’ he asked, to her surprise and trepidation. ‘Is he with you?’
It was difficult not to be pleased at his recollection of her boy, when in truth she should have been terrified. Why would a man who was barely an acquaintance care about the whereabouts of her son? Was it merely commonplace conversation or a threat of exposure or simply a way of worming his way into her good graces? Whatever his motive, she did not dare show her worry, so she kept her voice calm. Her answer factual. ‘He is well, thank you.’
Tommy had been impressed by Captain Read in his uniform when they had met. The boy had talked of how his father would have been just such a soldier. Subsequently, she had done her best to keep Captain Read at a distance in case he recalled the past she had tried to keep hidden.
‘You should think of him if you will not think of yourself. He would suffer greatly if anything happened to you,’ he said.
Her blood chilled. ‘Are you trying to frighten me?’ It would not be the first time a man had tried using intimidation to get what he wanted. ‘It is not well done of you. I can manage to find my own way back to my hotel from here.’ She could see the dashed place.
There was frost in his voice when he replied, ‘What is it about my company you object to, Mrs Falkner? Have I done something you find offensive?’
Her words had hurt him. It was a vulnerability she would not have expected from a man who carried himself with such confidence, but he had asked and she was all for speaking the truth. ‘I am a respectable woman, Mr Read.’ A respect that had been hard-won in a town like Skepton, where the community closed ranks against outsiders. ‘It will not serve my reputation to be seen junketing around with a single gentleman, no matter how worthy he may be. Or how well connected.’ She had no wish to be the subject of gossip or idle speculation, for Thomas’s sake, as much as for her own.
The hard muscles beneath her hand tensed, though his face gave nothing of his thoughts away. He was like a coiled spring. A weapon ready to fire. Perhaps if she insulted him enough, he would walk off in a huff. Let her escape from his unsettling presence. The flutters of attraction she felt each time he looked at her with those amazingly piercing hazel eyes were scrambling her thoughts. Was it because Merry and Charlie had deliberately warned her about his reputation as a ladies’ man prior to their wedding? Could it be her tendency to wickedness leading her astray? After all these years? Certainly not. She would never become one of his conquests. Or let him expose her secrets. She dropped her hand from his arm.
He did not take the hint. With grim determination, he walked her all the way to the hotel entrance and handed off her basket to the footman waiting at the door with an easy grace that belied his missing left hand. After five years, he must be used to it, she supposed, but still, something inside her ached at the sight of the sleeve pinned at the wrist.
Not that his injury made him any less of a man. Indeed, he had the sort of lethal masculinity that warned the unwary to be careful unless they disturb a sleeping beast. And warned a woman to guard her heart.
‘What time did you intend to set out for Skepton tomorrow?’ he asked in a surprisingly mild tone given the heat of anger in his gaze. Or perhaps it wasn’t anger at all, but something far more risky. Chills ran across her skin. Pleasant little prickles.
She ignored her body’s reaction. ‘I asked Mr Garge to have the coach at the door at eight. The haberdasher has promised to deliver the rest of my supplies later this afternoon. I will be home by mid-afternoon.’
He doffed his hat and bowed. ‘Then I wish the rest of your day is pleasant and bid you good day.’ He marched off, his bearing very much that of a soldier.
Dashing and handsome, in or out of uniform. Her skin warmed. Her body tingled in unmentionable places she thought she had firmly under control. The man was without doubt one of the most attractive she’d ever met. The kind of man...
Blast. How could she entertain such thoughts when she knew the danger of the smallest indiscretion? She had spent years creating an aura of respectability. Fought hard to maintain it, too. She wasn’t about to throw her life away for the sake of a handsome man. Especially not one of the ilk of Mr Read, who, while not legitimate, had an earl for a father. For Tommy’s sake, she could not afford to be noticed by anyone with connections to the beau monde. Not if she wanted to keep her son by her side.
If Mr Read should ever put two and two together she might well lose her son.
* * *
Charlie’s timing was abysmal. The next morning, sitting in the snug at the Sleeping Tiger, Blade stared at the letter that had, according to his groom, Ned, arrived in the first post. It was exactly what he had hoped for and the worst possible news. If he had known about this yesterday, before he’d met Mrs Falkner, it might not now feel so damnably uncomfortable. Mrs Falkner was not going to be pleased.
Understatement of the year.
She might, he mused, even think he was lying to get his own way in the matter of her requiring an escort.
Too bad. Charlie had offered him a position, albeit temporary, and he intended to do all he could to prove his friend’s trust justified. He needed this job. If he was successful, he might even be able to hold up his head and meet his father’s gimlet gaze after the Peterloo debacle.
Serving in the army had offered him the chance to leave his unfortunate beginnings behind and he’d mucked it up. No doubt the earl would already have received word of his failure. This offer he’d received from Charlie was a chance to start again without the need to ask his father for assistance. Something he hated. He certainly wasn’t going to let Mrs Falkner’s dislike keep him from honest employment.
He glanced at the dingy face of the case clock in the corner. ‘Damn.’ It was gone nine, well after the time she said she’d depart. Still, ladies were often late. Or at least his sisters often were. As were his previous inamoratas. Lost hair ribbons and misplaced gloves generally delayed a lady’s departure by more than an hour or two.
Unfortunately, Mrs Falkner did not strike him as a lady subject to missing articles. She was far too efficient or Charlie would not have left her in charge of the charitable establishment Merry and Mrs Falkner had founded. A home for fallen women and their children they called the Haven.
He downed a cup of scalding hot coffee and called for his shot. He’d have to hurry if he was going to catch
