Page 46 of The Duke of Daring (The Untouchables)
Dartford leaned against a streetlamp, his features cast in seductive shadow. She didn’t need to see him to picture the lines of his face—the strong angle of his nose, the cleft in his chin. He presented an attractive figure, a handsome gentleman lounging carelessly, just waiting for Something Exciting.
And yet he was only waiting for her. She wasnotexciting.
She’d worried that this morning would be uncomfortable given how their last meeting had ended, so she’d made a calculated effort to avoid the subject. He’d clearly done the same, which was for the best. Still, here they were together again, at night, in the same situation that saw them kissing several nights ago.
Not precisely the same. If he suggested they take a hack, she would firmly refuse…
He pushed away from the lamppost. “I thought we’d return to the hell where I met you.”
She nodded, uncaring where they went so long as she could make money. If she could do well tonight and again on Saturday with the balloon excursion, she could stop this. However, after the exhilaration of this morning’s race, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Especially since next week there would be a shooting exposition, and she was expected to participate. It was too good to pass up.
They turned down Piccadilly and made their way to the hell.
“You had a good time this morning?” he asked.
“Quite. I look forward to next week.” Whether she had enough money or not, she decided in that moment she wanted to go. At least once more.
“Since you know of the plans to shoot, you’ll need to bring your pistol.”
She slowed, realizing what he was implying. “You know I don’t have a proper one.”
“I do. You can borrow one of mine.” He glanced at her. “How did you leave your house without notice this morning?”
“My maid and I watched for the street to be clear, and I left as stealthily as possible. Aquilla and Ivy told me not to overthink it, and I daresay they were right. Lady Satterfield’s coach was waiting for me on the corner.”
He sent her an approving glance. “You needn’t bother with Lady Satterfield’s coach next week. I’ll pick you up in the same place.”
They’d be alone together again in a coach. She wasn’t sure that was wise, but she was even less sure she should mention that fact. So she didn’t.
Instead, she sneaked quick looks at him and recalled the feel of his mouth on hers and the way her body responded…
“Miss Parnell?”
Had he said something? “Yes, what?”
“I asked what pistol you wanted me to bring—the Purdey or the Manton?”
She shrugged. “Whichever you prefer. Although, I am partial to the Manton.”
“The Manton it is, then.” They neared the hell, and he reminded her of his “rules.” “Stay in my sight please, and when I say it’s time to leave, we leave.”
“I know.”
“You understand why I demand these things, don’t you? You see how our last excursion could’ve ended in disaster?”
She stopped and turned toward him. “It did.”
He nearly tripped. “I beg your pardon?”
She gave him an indignant stare. “I went home without my winnings, if you’ll recall.”
He coughed and smoothed his hand over the front of his coat. “Ah. I thought you meant…never mind.”
She hushed her voice low even though there was no one on their side of the street. “You thought I meant the kissing.” The last word came out like a hiss.
He averted his gaze from hers. “I, ah, yes.”
“I did not. I’m quite content to behave as though it didn’t happen. I thought that’s what we were doing.”
