“I can’t allow you to walk home at this hour. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want but please permit me to see you home safe.”
She leaned ever-so-slightly forward and, for a moment, he thought she was going to bolt. Instead, she turned to face him. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve walked home alone at night? And in places a million times rougher than Belgravia.”
“You’re obviously upset.”
“Am I?” Sparing him a final defiant glare, she walked away.
He followed three paces behind, making no effort to conceal his pursuit. After all, the object was to keep her safe, not scare her to death. She skirted Green Park as she made her way to Piccadilly. A chill lingered in the air, a reminder that summer was long over. Mist gathered, a prelude to what would no doubt be a thick fog. As highhanded as he’d been, he was glad he’d followed her. London’s fogs were unpredictable and sometimes fell with miraculous-seeming suddenness. He would have worried.
“Well, you win,” she called back over her shoulder. “When is my humiliation at the SPR to be?”
“You don’t think I’d let you off so easily, do you? The wager stands, tonight notwithstanding.”
She slowed, permitting him to catch up. “What are you talking about? I summoned the spirit of Lord Stein’s dead mother, something you expressly forbade.”
“Stein doesn’t count. He’s an animal, not a person.”
“Careful. I could take that logic and run wild with it.”
Somehow he didn’t think she would.
“Why ‘Early One Morning’?” he asked, referring to the song she’d sung.
“According to—” She stopped short of naming an accomplice. “According to certain sources, his mother used to sing it to him when he was a boy.”
“Only that song?”
“Of course not. There were a few. Why?”
Her choice of song told him volumes about who she was. “Early One Morning,” despite its sprightly tune, was about an unfaithful man. Stein’s treatment of his wife bothered her because it outraged her sense of justice. Of fairness. She had her own peculiar moral code, and he admired that about her.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, ignoring her question completely. “You don’t seem pleased. Do you tire of our wager already?”
She kept walking, her head down so that he couldn’t see her face.
“You could always forfeit. Take the money. A clever, resourceful woman like you could do so much with five hundred pounds.” He couldn’t really spare that much, but he could lay his hands on it easily. It wasn’t enough to save the dukedom on its own. Whether he kept it or gave it to Evangeline, he was still going to have to marry one of Ellis’s heiresses.
His gut twisted at the thought, but it was the only viable long-term solution.
He couldn’t think about that now. There was still time before he’d need to bite that particular bullet, and he knew how he wanted to spend it and with whom. Evangeline still hadn’t said anything, which was concerning.
“Is something the matter? Something other than Stein’s behavior, I mean.”
She stopped walking and peered into his face. “Harcastle, are you being kind?”
“I’m being fair. I assure you, I am never kind.”
She studied him through the gloom. “No, this definitely feels like kindness. But since you tell me that’s impossible, I suppose you have an ulterior motive.”
“For asking after your wellbeing? Why shouldn’t I feel an interest in you after—?”
Before he could finish, she pivoted on her heels and marched away across the street.
“Evangeline, wait!”
“Not unless you promise not to say what I think you were going to say. And stop calling me Evangeline.”
“If you’re worried I’m being kind because I want to sleep with you—”
She stopped again so abruptly that he nearly careened into her back. “Kindly lower your voice.”
“It’s true, if you must know. I do want to take you to bed.”
Her eyes widened. “Then I’m sorry, but you’re going to be very disappointed.”
“That’s not all, though. I realized tonight that I also happen to like you. Although, to be honest, I’m not sure why.”
“Is that supposed to be charming?”
“You lie for a living, you take people’s money under false pretenses, you rarely smile, and you have all the warmth of the Thames in midwinter. Yet I’m fond of you.”
“Oh really?” She lifted her chin, rising to the bait magnificently as always. “Well, you’re arrogant, you have no understanding of the real world or how real people live. And you have the gall to call me cold? I’ve seen hotter stalagmites.”
He wanted to kiss her. No woman had ever inspired even a tenth of the lust that she did. He didn’t care that they were on the edge of Soho or that it was closing time and they were about to be surrounded by drunks. He wanted to hold her hard against him until all her spikes and sharp edges melted away and she was consumed by desire the way he was.
The combative light faded from her eyes and her expression turned soft.
She knew what he was thinking.
“It’s late,” she said, and he knew that she wouldn’t take things further. At least not tonight.
Several minutes later, they turned into her street. The shop beneath her lodgings had seen better days, but the building must have been handsome back in Soho’s glory days. As they reached the front door, she turned, about to bid him good night.
“Before I go, I need to know if I owe you an apology for yesterday.”
In the shadows he couldn’t be sure, but he thought she might be blushing. “No, of course not, but we mustn’t let it happen again. I’m sure you agree.”
He nodded even though he most emphatically did not agree. She might not be ready to admit it but they were on a collision course. It was only a matter of time before the sparks between them burst into flames.
“I’m glad you feel the same way.”
“Good night, Evangeline.”
He’d taken perhaps two steps when her hand caught his arm. “Harcastle, wait. After tonight, we mustn’t talk about this again. The subject must remain completely out of bounds.”
He bowed. “Of course.”
“But, just so you know, so that there are no misunderstandings, what you did yesterday, what we did…well, you looked beautiful, that’s all.”