Page 34 of A Scandalous Bargain
“Because I’m, as you put it, wandering around London in the middle of the night.”
His exasperated breath permeated the damp night air. “Where did you get that pistol?”
That wasn’t a story she felt comfortable sharing. He was already wondering about what kind of woman she must be since she’d held her own against a footpad. What would he think if she told him she’d stolen it? “It was given to me by a…friend.”
“How do you know how to use it? You said you did.”
“My sister and I thought it wise to learn how to shoot. Her former husband taught us.” She hated making up things that were blatantly untrue. Long ago, Selina had cautioned her against doing so because if you forgot what you’d said, you risked being caught in the lie. It was better to rely on half-truths or, better still, to avoid answering troublesome questions altogether. That was becoming harder and harder with Rockbourne. He already knew far more about her than anyone except Selina.
Why had she let her guard down with him?
Beatrix cast him a sidelong glance as they reached Portland Street. Perhaps she should sever this relationship entirely. What was the point of it anyway? She’d helped him, he’d helped her—she was certain he was behind the voucher to Almack’s. Everything else was now just…what? What was it?
Temptation.
He was a father in mourning, and she was the bastard daughter of a duke who was hoping to secure her future. There really wasn’t any need for them to continue meeting, much as she wanted to. How sad that made her.
She opened her mouth to say so, but he spoke first.
“Tonight was the most fun I’ve had in a very, very long time.” He paused a beat. “Except for the footpads.” He said the last with a humor-filled warmth that made her smile. Not that she needed much prodding after he’d said tonight was the most fun he’d had in a long time.
Avery, verylong time.
“The footpad incident wasn’t all bad.”
“I suppose that’s true.” Now he looked at her, and she felt the heat in his gazeeverywhere. “I liked it when you called me Tom.”
“I didn’t want to call you by your title. Not then.”
“Don’t feel as though you ever need to use that again. Tom is fine. Tom is lovely, in fact.”
Yes, he was.
Against her better judgment, Beatrix reached for his hand and twined her fingers with his. She wished with every fiber of her being that she wasn’t wearing gloves.
“We’re nearly to Queen Anne Street,” she said.
“I know.”
She realized their gait had slowed. He seemed as reluctant as she was for the night to end. Maybe they should have stolen into the house in Cavendish Square. But again, to what end?
Beatrix didn’t care. She didn’t want to think past the next few moments.
“Will you let me know if Bow Street contacts you again?” she asked.
“No.”
She frowned. “Why not?”
“What would you do?”
“I don’t know. I’d just like to be aware.” She was worried about him. Losing a spouse, the parent of one’s child, had to be difficult even in the worst of situations, which it seemed their marriage was. He seemed all right for the most part, but his flash of anger—and the way he pummeled the footpad—gave her pause.
“It’s a moot issue since they won’t be contacting me. You can put the entire affair from your mind.”
“Have you?” she asked softly.
“I’m trying to.” His voice was tight, and she was almost sorry she’d asked.
