Lorraine Heath - Midnight Pleasures with a Scoundrel

”It’s quite all right. I know how difficult it is when you lose someone you love. Even now I often think of my father.”

“Has there been anyone else whom you’ve loved in your life?”

“No.” He wouldn’t tell her about Frannie. His feelings for Frannie, once tender and precious, were for him alone. “Have you ever loved a gent?”

She shook her head. “No.” Lifting her hand, she flicked water at him. “We’re getting very personal here, Mr. Swindler.”

“It’s more interesting than talk of your home. Where is it, by the way?” he prodded, arching his brow, giving her only a glimpse of a teasing smile.

She seemed to give it a moment of thought, as though she couldn’t remember. Or perhaps she simply hadn’t expected the question. “It’s to the north, near the sea, as I mentioned. My father’s estate is small, but lovely. I’m comfortable there.”

“To whom will it go now that he has died? I hope you don’t have a horrid distant male cousin or uncle who will toss you out.” Or worse yet, use her for his own gain. Perhaps there was more to her having no one to show her about London than she claimed.

She shook her head. “The land was not entailed. So the cottage is mine. His title was not hereditary. It was given to him for services rendered to the Crown. Unfortunately it came with nothing except the title, but my father was not one to complain.”

“You don’t strike me as one to complain either.”

She gave him another impish smile. “I can be stubborn when I set my mind to it.”

He couldn’t see her as stubborn either, although he had to admit that her present course contained a bit of recklessness. What did she truly mean to accomplish by following Rockberry around?

“A cottage by the sea seems like a worthy dowry. Have you an interest in marrying a lord?”

“I suspect they’d have no interest in me.”

He stopped rowing. He dared to skim his gloved fingers along her cheek, cursing the cloth that prevented his skin from touching hers. Her eyes widened slightly, and then darkened, and he wondered if she was imagining what he was: his hands trailing over more than just her cheek. He quickly grabbed the oar before he lost all sense of propriety. “I believe they’d show a great deal of interest if they were to make your acquaintance.”

“But that shall never happen.”

“I could make it happen.”

She seemed as stunned by his words as he was. Whatever had possessed him to make that declaration? He had no desire to see her within the arms of another man, but neither did he wish for her to waste her time in London seeking some sort of petty revenge against Rockberry. Truly, what could she accomplish other than irritating the man? He wasn’t worth her time or attention, and it annoyed Swindler that she was giving Rockberry both.

Seeing her again, he was more convinced that his original assessment of her held true: she was no danger to Rockberry. The man was no doubt reacting to his own guilt over his abhorrent behavior toward her sister. He should be flogged. Swindler was of a mind to flog him. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d meted out justice to those who the law considered beyond reach. Was that the reason Sir David had set him this task: not so much to see to the lady, but to the gentleman?

“I didn’t…come here for a Season,” she finally stammered.

“Why did you come here, then?”

“To put a face to a name, to see London, to…what time is it?”

“Judging by the sun, nearly five.”

She seemed stunned by his words. “Do you not possess a watch?”

“No.”

His answer was succinct, to the point, as though he wanted to let the matter drop, and she wondered at the story there. She began to put her glove back on. “Did you bring me on this outing to ensure that I wasn’t at the park at half past five?”

“What is to be gained by torturing yourself with the presence of Rockberry in the park?”

“I’m not sure. Every time I see him, it is like a dagger to the heart.”

“I fear I’ve effectively ruined your afternoon.”

Her smile was soft but reassuring. “Not at all. Rather, I think you’ve managed to convince me that I should enjoy London while I’m here. But it is getting late. I should probably return to my lodgings.”

He winked at her. “If I can determine how to get us back to shore.”

She laughed lightly. “Thank you for the pleasant afternoon, Mr. Swindler. It seems I’m once again in your debt.”

“May I call upon you again tomorrow?”

She gave him a demure smile. “I’d like that very much.”

After another day in her company, Swindler still didn’t quite trust her not to slip out and follow Rockberry. So after escorting her to her door, he’d ridden the carriage around the corner, hopped out, and ordered the driver to return to Claybourne’s. He then took up his post outside Miss Watkins’s lodgings.

He didn’t know what had possessed him to reveal so much of his past to her. After all these years, the anger over the injustice of his father’s punishment still ripped through him. He didn’t need the fury now. He needed a clear, cool head to deal with Miss Watkins.

But that was asking almost too much. What was it about her that intrigued him so? She was innocence, but she also possessed determination. Like him, she sought justice. How could he ignore her need to avenge her sister when everything he did was in the name of his father?

If this were a private matter, if he had been personally hired by Rockberry to spy on Miss Watkins, he could handle things very differently. But as he’d been ordered to follow her, his position required a bit more discretion. He couldn’t simply go to Rockberry’s residence and give him a good flogging.

Swindler waited until darkness descended. He saw the faint light easing between the draperies in her window. He watched her silhouette pass in front of the window and stop. Then it continued on. He wondered if she would comb her hair tonight. If he should stay.

He glanced around. No one was about. He shouldn’t be either. He began walking up the street. He would see her again tomorrow. For the first time in a long time, he was anticipating the next day.

Swindler awoke to the pounding on his door. Rolling out of bed, he pulled on his trousers and buttoned them as he crossed into the living area and went to the door. Opening it, he stepped back as Sir David strode by him.

“She followed him to Dodger’s. You were supposed to keep an eye on her,” Sir David said without preamble.

Swindler fought to suppress his yawn. “I watched her lodgings until after dark. She was there when I left. She must have gone out later.”

“What time did you leave?”

Swindler shrugged. “Perhaps an hour after the gaslights were lit.”

“You don’t know what time, do you, because you won’t carry a damned watch. Blast it, man! If you weren’t so good at what you do, I wouldn’t tolerate your idiosyncrasies.”

“If I’m so good, then why give me this assignment that requires none of my skills?”

“Rockberry asked for you by name. Apparently he saw your name in the Times for one crime solved or another.”

“But why cater to his whims?”

“Because he is powerful and influential. Now about the girl-”

“I must sleep sometime.”

Sir David plowed his hands through his black hair. He wasn’t much older than Swindler, but already his hair was graying at the temples. “Quite right.”

“Sir David, Rockberry did more than dance with Elisabeth. He trifled with her.”

“It’s unconscionable, but not a crime. He’s certain Miss Eleanor Watkins means him harm.”