Page 115 of In Bed with the Earl

As Mr. Giles placed his sole palm in hers, she caught the glare Malcom leveled her way. Or mayhap it was reserved for Mr. Giles.

More likely, it was reserved for the both of them.

Giles looked at her for a moment and then doffed his hat. “These are altogether different circumstances than our first meeting.”

A smile pulled at her lips. “Indeed.”

He leaned down. “If anyone had told me the day you arrived to speak with North that he’d go and marry you, I’d have directed that blighter on to Bedlam.” He winked.

“And I would have clarified the directions for that blighter,” she said, her smile deepening.

Tossing his head back, Mr. Giles erupted into another booming chuckle.

“If you’re quite done,” Malcom snapped, “we’ve business to see to.”

Verity’s smile instantly withered. Malcom’s words were a reminder that all this was pretend: Their relationship. Even the introductions between her and his associate. She wasn’t part of his world. Even the exchanges in which they’d shared parts of themselves—all of it had been driven by their arrangement. And she’d be wise to remember as much. “Forgive me; I’ll leave you both to your meeting.”

And as she let herself out, foolish as it was, she found herself wishing that Malcom hadwantedto join her at Hatchards.

Chapter 24

THE LONDONER

Despite appearances amongst Polite Society, it is reported that at various points of the day, the Earl of Maxwell ... disappears. And thetonis left with one more question about the gentleman:Wheredoes he go?

M. Fairpoint

Having ridden from Grosvenor Square to the wharves of London, Malcom had thought he’d managed to escape the questioning.

Alas, knowing Giles as he had through the years, he’d merely been deluding himself.

“How is married life?” Giles asked as they walked the less traveled shore of the Thames.

“Go to hell,” he muttered.

“So as well as one would expect,” the other man said dryly with his nub adjusting his tosher pole against his shoulder. “And yet, also well enough that you’ve not gone out nightly.”

There was a question there. “I’ve had other work I’ve had to see to.” It was why he’d put Giles in charge in his absence. “Unless it’s been too difficult—”

The other man snorted. “Nowyoucan go to hell.”

Malcom kept his gaze forward. Giles was entitled to his skepticism. Since Malcom had started scavenging sewers as a boy, there’d not been a single day of rest. His had been a purpose-driven existence.

It hadn’t been eating ices at Gunter’s and skipping stones at Hyde Park. It hadn’t been her ... Verity Lovelace ... with her endearing tendency to prattle on about Epsom salts and English history with like skill.

And yet, now that it was ... now ... those moments held on.

Beckoned.

And suddenly, this wasn’t quite what it once had been.

It wasn’t what it had been at all.

“Are you ready?”

There was a hesitancy in Giles’s voice.

And Malcom glanced around.

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