Page 42 of The Wolf Duke's Wife
Gale swallowed. “I didn’t know she was attached.”
“You knew enough to skulk,” Tristan said, “who sent you?”
“No one.”
Tristan’s smile showed a hint of tooth. The wolf stirred.
“You breathe like a liar. Try the truth, Mr. Gale. It has the benefit of requiring less wit.”
Gale’s eyes darted again. “A gentleman paid me to watch for a Lady Christine. Said she might come into the town from the function up at Greystone. Said to see where she went and who with. I’ve been waiting all week.”
“Describe this gentleman.”
“Tall. Well-spoken. Country coat too fine for the cut. He never gave a name.”
“Accents betray men more than knives,” Tristan said, “London? Bristol? North?”
“London,” Gale said quickly. “But he tried to sound country.”
Someone who wants to be overlooked. A country squire would be ignored by the ton.
Tristan released the sleeve, only to catch the lapel instead, hauling Gale half a step into shadow. “You will take a messageback. Tell your gentleman that wolves hunt in daylight as well as in the dark. Tell him the lady is attended by a keeper who does not sleep.”
Gale’s throat bobbed. “I…yes. Your Grace.”
So the man is clever enough to know who the wolf is and sharp enough to see through the country disguise of his employer.
“And Gale,” Tristan added, almost gently, “if you ever put your shadow on her again, you will not have one to put.”
He let go. Gale stumbled, nearly fell, then fled like a hare, hat clutched, elbows sharp as wings. Tristan stood in the alley’s mouth until his pulse slowed. When he turned back toward the square, Christine had already sensed an alteration in the air.
The doe was perceptive to her environment, always looking for the predator. Her gaze found him, questions swimming to the surface like fish. He went to her.
“You should not be alone in town,” Tristan said quietly.
“I am not alone,” Christine returned, equally quiet, “I am with friends.”
“I see only one,” Tristan said.
“You are here also,” Christine said with significance.
“Am I counted as a friend?”
“We have spent so much time together, you had better be, or another label will be applied by those who observe us,” Christine said.
“Good. I believe you know my feelings on that. A man was following you.”
Her breath caught. He felt it, as surely as if their bodies touched.
“Who?”
“None of your concern any longer.”
“Christine…”
She blinked at the name, naked of title or honorific. It set a flush along her throat. “Yes?”
“I went to my solicitor. There is movement. Charles is closer than we thought.”
