Belle folded her arms. “I didn’t say bitter. My point is, if you came into the shop, I would know the type of tea to present to you.”
“I’m sure it would be expensive.”
“The best teas are worth the cost.”
“Like everything in life, I suppose. So you can recognize a customer who is not adventurous and a customer who is, and you think that by changing the topic, I’ll forget something is bothering you.”
Oh, so he was clever. How she wished that made him unattractive, “I think I liked you better when you were unconscious.”
“I’m sure I’ll oblige you soon enough.” He paused. “Where is your father?”
Belle turned to close the window.
Behind her, she heard him make a sound of affirmation. “That’s what it is.”
Annoying that he was observant too.
“How long has he been gone?” Arundel asked.
“I’m sure he will be back momentarily.”
“Miss Howard.”
At the note of alarm in his voice, she gave him a sharp look.
“How long has he been gone?”
“An hour and a half? Perhaps two hours now? I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”
But he didn’t reassure her. “Where did he go?”
“To pay the rent. Usually I go, but he said to stay here since it was raining, and the streets are muddy.”
“How long a walk to reach the landlord?”
His barrage of questions was making her more ill at ease. “Perhaps a quarter hour. Maybe a little more with the mud and water.”
“Then even being generous, he should have been back an hour ago.”
“Perhaps the landlord invited him in and—”
“Miss Howard, I don’t know your landlord, but if he is anything like others I have encountered, he’s not friendly with the tenants. No one wants to evict a friend.”
Belle sighed. He was right. The landlord was an old man who usually opened the door, took the money, and made her wait outside while he counted it. Once satisfied, he sent her off with a wave until the next month. “I should go out and look for him.”
“No.” The determination in his voice made her pause.
“I am five and twenty, sir. I can make my own decisions.”
“This isn’t about your age—”
She opened her mouth, but he interrupted before she could speak “—or your sex. This is about me. If something has happened—and I’m not saying it has—it almost certainly has to do with me.”
“It’s your fault my father hasn’t returned?”
“It might be.”
“If he’s in trouble, then I must look for him. I won’t stay here and do nothing.” She grasped a hat from a hook and started for the door. Arundel was surprisingly quick for an injured man and caught her about the waist before she could reach it.
“Let go of me.” She twisted against his hold.
Chapter Seven
Her large brown eyes met his. If looks could maim or injure, he would be on the floor, writhing in pain. He might end up there at any rate as his head was swimming due to his sudden rise. If he allowed himself to feel the pain of his injury, he’d probably sink to his knees. One item they had not told him during training at the Farm was how bloody much it hurt to be stabbed.
And how much it continued to hurt.
“Drastic measures?” Miss Howard said, her lips barely moving. She must have clenched her jaw tightly. Thank God she had stopped squirming.
“I can’t fight you, but I outweigh you by at least four stone, probably five.” The woman couldn’t have weighed more than eight stone. Hew could practically feel her ribs through her dress. He should be the one feeding her tea and bread. “I can sit on you and keep you here.”
“And what will you do when I poke at your injury?” She twisted, almost escaping his hold this time. “I wager you will allow me up quick enough.”
Hew narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t do that, Miss Howard. And you will cease fighting me and sit down.” He caught the faintest flicker of capitulation in her eyes and, as a show of good faith, released her waist. She stepped back, sliding the fabric of her dress down as though he’d hurt her, even though he had been gentle—firm, but gentle.
“You had better sit down yourself,” she said. “Before you fall down.”
He had hoped that the swaying had been the building, but buildings in this part of the world didn’t sway. He also didn’t think Belle Howard was the sort of woman to give up so easily. She’d wait until he passed out again and then walk right out the door and into danger. Hew did what any agent in his condition would—he sank down in front of the door.
“Not there, you oaf,” Miss Howard said, her voice filled with irritation. “In the bed.” She offered a hand to help him rise and move to the bed, which, he could admit, would have been a sight more comfortable, but he waved her hand away.
“I like it here.”
She stood and stared down at him. “You think blocking the door will keep me here?”
“I don’t think you’re foolish enough to go out the window, but I could be mistaken. Perhaps you want to break your neck.”
The look in her eyes said she wanted to break someone’s neck. It also said she was worried enough about her father to do just about anything. Fortunately, the rain chose that moment to begin again. It was a light spattering on the window, but if her weather forecasting skills were one-tenth of her skill with tea, then it would be raining more heavily soon. Even a headstrong woman without an ounce of sense wouldn’t try and climb out a window in the rain.
Miss Howard glanced at the window, giving it a look of loathing she had heretofore reserved for him. Then she walked deliberately to the chair, grasped it with both hands, dragged it to the end of the bed, and set it to face him. She sat, arms crossed and staring at him. Hew was fairly certain this was one of the most unusual situations he’d ever been in. He was in bare feet and shirtsleeves, sitting in front of a door, keeping an unmarried, unchaperoned woman hostage. He had a moment to wonder what had become of his new coat from Schweitzer and Davidson’s then decided it was best not to know.
“I am not a curious person, Mr. Arundel. I mind my business and leave others to their own. If I go to St. Katharine Docks and a man approaches me and whispers he has a SowMee White or Yin Chen and will give me a good price, I don’t ask questions. If the tea is good quality, I buy it and let him worry about customs fees and import taxes.”
Hew rubbed his forehead, attempting to ease the pounding that had begun there. All this talk of tea made him wish he’d had the forethought to grasp the cup she’d given him before sinking down in front of the door. “I don’t think your ignorance will shield you from prosecution, should you be discovered with smuggled tea.”
She lifted a shoulder. “That example was purely hypothetical.”
“Sure it was.” His gaze flicked to the still half-full cup of Earl Grey. He hoped she hadn’t acquired that from smugglers, but even if she had, he would have drunk it. It truly was the best he’d ever had.