“Very well. I’ve engaged in countless fights, Miss Russell. One doesnae survive a place like St. Giles without having done so. While working for Guthrie I helped him track down the most despicable people London had to offer, and when I saw what they’d done to helpless women and children, I took great pleasure in making them suffer. So yes, I’ve hurt people. I’ve also killed, though never unless I had to.”
A lie.
He had murdered someone once in cold blood.
Nausea tightened his throat.
He tried to take a calm breath. Did his best to tamp down the guilt and self-loathing.
“Thank you for being honest.”
He hadn’t been. Not completely. If Miss Russell knew his darkest secret she’d run from him without second thought. The rest was apparently something she could accept, which meant they’d be seeing more of each other.
“And just so you know, it doesn’t frighten me in the least.” She gave him the sort of smile that would have knocked him on his arse if he’d been standing. “What are your hobbies?”
“My what?”
Her smile widened into a mischievous grin. “You know, those things one does for pure enjoyment? As I’ve mentioned, I like to shoot and you like to…”
He flattened his mouth, withdrew his hand from hers and crossed his arms so he could serve her the scowl she deserved. “Plants and books.”
Dismay captured her features. “Truly?”
“I like watching things grow.” Nurturing a seedling until it thrived was more rewarding than anything else in the world. Realizing she was studying him as if he belonged behind glass in some collection of the bizarre, he hastily added, “And reading has always been a great pleasure of mine. I’ve got hundreds of books.”
Sparkling green eyes held him captive. “If you were forced to give them all away, save one, which would you keep?”
A thought-provoking question, so different from any other he’d ever been asked. Yet another thing he liked about her. This woman wouldn’t bore him with inane conversation pertaining to fashion or the weather. “I suppose I’d have to base my selection not only on my appreciation for the author’s skill as a writer, but on the content’s ability to entertain me each time I read it. With that in mind, I think I’d choose The Earl’s Secret Escapades by Charles Cunningham.”
Miss Russell stared at him in an odd sort of way until he almost wished he’d mentioned something else. The Works of Aristotle, perhaps? Or Benjamin Franklin’s memoires? But the truth was he liked the adventurous story about an aristocrat spy. It was clever, filled with action, amusing banter, and danger.
“I, um…” Her cheeks pinkened. She fidgeted with her skirt. “I am familiar with it.”
His respect for her continued to grow, not so much because she’d read the book but because she’d admitted it to him. After all, it did contain a few risqué scenes consisting of passionate kisses between the earl and his paramour.
“And what are your thoughts on the story?” he asked while doing his best to hide the amusement he found with Miss Russell’s discomfiture.
She cleared her throat. “It’s wonderfully entertaining.”
“I particularly like the part where the earl is chasing the villain across the rooftops. The ensuing struggle when he catches him and they nearly fall to their deaths is thrilling.”
Her face lit up. “I think so too.” The shy smile teasing her lips was so enchanting he was almost tempted to reach up and trace his finger across the dimple it formed at the edge of her mouth. “It might not be very realistic but one of my favorite scenes is where the earl is fighting off ten men in an alley.”
“Ye’re right. They should have been able to overpower him by sheer number, but I do agree that it was exciting to read.”
“Do you…” She bit her lip, seemed to hesitate briefly, before she finally asked, “Do you think the story could have done with less romance?”
“Maybe, but I certainly didnae mind it. In fact, including some romance should make the book appeal to both sexes. As I dare say we’ve just established.”
She gave a thoughtful nod. “It’s my reason for liking the story. Not the romance, I mean, but the balance between the romance and the rest of it. I find it appealing.”
A comfortable moment of silence followed without either one of them saying a word. They just sat side by side on the bench, enjoying the sunshine, the soft twitter of birds, and the beauty the garden offered. Blayne inhaled deeply. He could remain here all day if he didn’t have other tasks to attend to. It would be a pleasure for him to enjoy the peaceful retreat while letting himself relax in Miss Russell’s company.
He’d already stayed much longer than he’d intended. It was time for him to take his leave. “If ye dinnae require me for the rest of the day, I’d like to get back to The Black Swan. When I left, I meant to return within the hour so I didnae give my colleagues instructions on how to deal with the ale delivery we’re expecting.”
“Of course.” Miss Russell stood and shook out her skirts. “Make the necessary arrangements today so you can be free tomorrow. There’s an errand I have to run in the East End, so I’d like to have your escort.”
“What time do ye want me to call on ye?” Blayne asked as soon as he’d risen.
“We’ll meet at the corner of Oxford Street and Tottenham Court Road since your coming here will only result in unnecessary questions.” When he remained silent she added, “My parents have busy schedules. The only reason they were here this morning was for the sake of meeting you. Otherwise, they’re both out of the house by nine, but there are the servants to consider. I wouldn’t trust any of them besides Daisy not to inform my parents that I’ve gone out with you for the day.”
“Duly noted.”
“There’s something else. My father may have given you the impression that I’m not good for the ten pounds I’ve offered to pay every week for your service. If this concerns you, I am willing to provide you with an advance.”
“That willnae be necessary. Ye’ve given yer word, and that’s good enough for me. Besides, ye seem like the practical sort so it wouldnae surprise me to learn ye’ve been setting aside some pin money for when ye need it.” He offered his arm and she took it, instilling in him a deep sense of satisfaction. She knew he was dangerous and yet, she seemed to trust him completely. It was only fair of him to return the favor.
Water streaked down the window, smudging the view of the street. Comfortably dry inside the carriage she’d hired, Charlotte waited patiently for Mr. MacNeil’s arrival. Daisy sat beside her, tapping her foot in time to the rapid beat of the rain.
“He’s going to be late,” the maid said. She’d been checking her pocket watch every minute since their arrival. “Honestly, miss, I think we ought to leave.”
“He’ll come,” Charlotte assured her with every bit of confidence she felt. “Mr. MacNeil is a man of his word.”
At the very least he’d been clear about wanting to thwart her parents. She also sensed he needed the money, though for what exactly she’d no idea.