Page 8 of Seduced By a Scoundrel

Talboys set Jeremy’s bag on a table and raised his hands. “Say no more, young man. I’m not here for you or anyone else, and I would hate to importune Mr. Wilkes by asking what you mean by that.”

Jeremy eyed Artie askance. The lad was good, but he had a few questionable family members that Jeremy was aware of. He’d hired the boy to help him get away from that life.

“There’s no need to worry,” he said, trying to smile as he stepped across the front room, heading for the curtain separating the two halves of the shop. “Det. Talboys is here for me.”

“Is he, sir?” Artie asked, his face going pink.

Jeremy nearly stumbled over his own feet. His staff all knew about his nature and were as discreet as the day was long, but having that sort of a suggestion made openly worried him.

“Mind your tongue, boy,” Talboys scolded him as he followed Jeremy to the back. “I’m here on official business.”

“Yes, sir,” Artie said, watching Talboys pass him, eyes wide with awe.

“He is a good lad,” Jeremy assured Talboys as they moved into the back, where Timothy was working. The shop’s other employee, a lad named Jonty who was responsible for most of the shop’s deliveries, had returned and was helping Timothy finish stitching the breeches for Mr. Naman’s order. “They all are. They show immense talent, and they are conscientious and diligent in their work.”

“I see,” Talboys said, nodding to the two boys at the work table. “You’ve quite a lot of orders, I see.”

Jeremy glanced around his workshop. “Yes. One advantage of being well thought of by members of theton, and now by members of The Brotherhood, is that I have more work than I could possibly handle on my own. The boys are a godsend, though I should like to employ another master tailor at some point.”

Talboys nodded again, then followed Jeremy to the narrow set of stairs at the back of the workshop that led up to his private apartments.

Jeremy’s upstairs rooms were tidy and tastefully decorated. Despite having earned quite a bit of money in the last few years, he did not own nor want to own anything ostentatious that would show off his wealth, other than the building that housed his shop and home. His apartment was made up of two, simple rooms. The front room contained a stove, a table with two chairs, and a small sofa that had once been downstairs until a client spilled coffee on it. He had reupholstered it to remove the stain but had decided to keep it for himself instead of returning it to the shop.

The second room was a simple bedroom with a bed, wardrobe, and washstand. He regretted that the door to that room was open and that Talboys walked straight toward it, as if he were interested in its contents.

“Would you like tea?” Jeremy asked nervously, wondering what Talboys must think of him for inviting him up to his private chambers so quickly. He was no prude, but bitter experience had taught him that just because he fancied a man or a man wanted him, it did not mean he could be trusted.

“Yes, please,” Talboys said, continuing on into the bedchamber.

Jeremy didn’t know whether to set the kettle and stoke the stove or to run after Talboys to stop him from discovering something untoward. Not that there was anything even remotely untoward in Jeremy’s life. With the sort of clientele he had, he could not afford to set one foot even a little bit out of line.

He shifted the kettle onto the warmest part of the stove then followed Talboys without putting more wood on the fire.

He wasn’t certain what he expected from Talboys, whether the man had carnal intentions or not. Clearly, he didn’t, as he went straight to the windows at the far side of the room that looked out over the alley and mews at the back of the building.

“Is it commonly known that you reside in this apartment above your shop?” Talboys asked as he looked this way and that out the window.

Jeremy swallowed hard. “Yes, I think.”

Talboys grunted, then leaned back from the window, closing the curtains. “Does Sir John Conroy know that you reside here?”

A shiver of dread passed through Jeremy. “I suppose he does,” he said in a thin voice. He blinked, then added, “You do not suppose he would try to come after me here, do you?”

Talboys stepped over to close the curtains over the room’s second window, thrusting the room into dim light. “I believe that any man who would be quick enough to send a carriage to trample someone who overheard something they should not have might try again to eliminate any threat to them.”

Jeremy reached out for the headboard of the bed, but refused to allow himself the luxury of sinking onto the counterpane and showing his weakness. “What should I do?” he asked instead.

Talboys frowned and pressed his lips together, glancing around the room. He rubbed his handsomely stubbly chin as he studied Jeremy’s most intimate space.

The mood shifted in an instant. Suddenly, instead of wearing the expression of a police officer investigating an attempted murder, Talboys was a curious man taking in the details of another man’s bedchamber. Jeremy felt utterly exposed as the man looked at the landscape painting on one wall, the washcloth that was draped over the edge of the wash bowl, and the smooth, clean counterpane that covered Jeremy’s bed.

“You’re very neat,” Talboys observed.

Jeremy tensed slightly. “Is that relevant?” he asked.

A slight flush painted Talboys’s face as his gaze stopped wandering and settled on Jeremy. “No,” he said. “Merely an observation.”

As if he needed to continue his observations, Talboys strode out of the bedroom and back into the main room.

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