to go to their own stables.”
“Right you are, my lady.” The stablehand stepped up beside him and held out his hand for the reins although his eyes were on Charlotte. He exchanged a look with her that Edward could only describe as mischievous.
Charlotte grinned back, her face transformed for an instant from inhospitable desert to an English summer garden.
This was not the man who’d accompanied her to the gin house in Tothill Road, though. He knew the stable boy watching them from the stall was the one who’d gone with her. The wiry strength of him was unmistakable.
Edward handed the reins over with an easy movement.
Charlotte held out her arm. “Shall Gary take a note with him for your butler to send round some clothes, my lord? Seeing he’ll be going anyway?”
“Before that, I’d like a word.” Edward was not having an argument with her in her stable yard. Especially as it was clear the men listening were more than just servants.
“Of course.” Her lips twitched as his hand closed over her arm, and he wondered if she had any idea how angry he was.
He led the way to the back garden.
“You can start snarling now,” Charlotte whispered near hisear, making him jerk away. “They can’t see your face. Although I’m sure they’re listening, so you’ll have to keep your voice down.”
He kept his gait smooth, but inside he stumbled. “Do you always live like this? Afraid of what they’ll see?”
She put out a hand, let her gloved fingers brush over the thick velvet of pink rose petals that lined their path. It occurred to him that he had never seen her without gloves that came to above her elbows or long-sleeved gowns, no matter how hot the weather. “I forget, sometimes, how much of my life it controls.” She pulled a handful of petals off an overblown rose and rubbed them between her fingers, releasing their scent. “Gary is loyal to me, but Kit—he’s Luke’s ears and eyes here. Some of the house servants, too.”
“Even though you pay their salaries?” He looked behind him, before the path swung sharp right, toward the back of the house, and blocked the stable yard from view. Kit watched them, leaning on a broom.
Edward tightened his grip on her arm and swung her through an arch of climbing roses, into the cool shade of the hedge that surrounded the garden in a wall of green.
“Luke might give them extra.” She shrugged. “Or it may be because I’m not really one of them anymore. Luke’s probably got more money than me, but he’s kept to the rookeries. He doesn’t put on airs.”
He looked at her and raised a brow, and she laughed softly.
“I can simper with the best of them, Lord Durnham. You wouldn’t recognize me at one of the balls you never attend.”
He shook his head. “I doubt that’s true.”
She lifted her hands as if in defeat. “Perhaps. I turn down as many invitations to dance as I accept. I can’t help looking at the men who approach me and wondering if they would think my dowry is worth bringing themselves to Luke’s attention.”
“And does it?” He stopped completely. He had to force his hand not to shake.
She frowned, and he cleared his throat. “Does it bring them to his attention? And how so, if you don’t tell him?”
She shivered in the deep shade of the hedge, and he led her out onto the lawn, into the sun again. “Oh, this end of London is Luke’s patch. He’s got servants on his payroll everywhere. How do you think he found out about your men asking questions?”
He was such a fool. He had not thought of criminals being so organized, but why not? “You make him sound like a lord of crime.”
She raised her face to his, startled. “I thought you understood. That is what he is.” She turned away and neither of them said anything for a moment. He could still smell the sweet perfume of the rose petals, crushed where her hand had become a fist, and looking down on her face, at the dark lashes against her cheek, some emotion rose up
“Right you are, my lady.” The stablehand stepped up beside him and held out his hand for the reins although his eyes were on Charlotte. He exchanged a look with her that Edward could only describe as mischievous.
Charlotte grinned back, her face transformed for an instant from inhospitable desert to an English summer garden.
This was not the man who’d accompanied her to the gin house in Tothill Road, though. He knew the stable boy watching them from the stall was the one who’d gone with her. The wiry strength of him was unmistakable.
Edward handed the reins over with an easy movement.
Charlotte held out her arm. “Shall Gary take a note with him for your butler to send round some clothes, my lord? Seeing he’ll be going anyway?”
“Before that, I’d like a word.” Edward was not having an argument with her in her stable yard. Especially as it was clear the men listening were more than just servants.
“Of course.” Her lips twitched as his hand closed over her arm, and he wondered if she had any idea how angry he was.
He led the way to the back garden.
“You can start snarling now,” Charlotte whispered near hisear, making him jerk away. “They can’t see your face. Although I’m sure they’re listening, so you’ll have to keep your voice down.”
He kept his gait smooth, but inside he stumbled. “Do you always live like this? Afraid of what they’ll see?”
She put out a hand, let her gloved fingers brush over the thick velvet of pink rose petals that lined their path. It occurred to him that he had never seen her without gloves that came to above her elbows or long-sleeved gowns, no matter how hot the weather. “I forget, sometimes, how much of my life it controls.” She pulled a handful of petals off an overblown rose and rubbed them between her fingers, releasing their scent. “Gary is loyal to me, but Kit—he’s Luke’s ears and eyes here. Some of the house servants, too.”
“Even though you pay their salaries?” He looked behind him, before the path swung sharp right, toward the back of the house, and blocked the stable yard from view. Kit watched them, leaning on a broom.
Edward tightened his grip on her arm and swung her through an arch of climbing roses, into the cool shade of the hedge that surrounded the garden in a wall of green.
“Luke might give them extra.” She shrugged. “Or it may be because I’m not really one of them anymore. Luke’s probably got more money than me, but he’s kept to the rookeries. He doesn’t put on airs.”
He looked at her and raised a brow, and she laughed softly.
“I can simper with the best of them, Lord Durnham. You wouldn’t recognize me at one of the balls you never attend.”
He shook his head. “I doubt that’s true.”
She lifted her hands as if in defeat. “Perhaps. I turn down as many invitations to dance as I accept. I can’t help looking at the men who approach me and wondering if they would think my dowry is worth bringing themselves to Luke’s attention.”
“And does it?” He stopped completely. He had to force his hand not to shake.
She frowned, and he cleared his throat. “Does it bring them to his attention? And how so, if you don’t tell him?”
She shivered in the deep shade of the hedge, and he led her out onto the lawn, into the sun again. “Oh, this end of London is Luke’s patch. He’s got servants on his payroll everywhere. How do you think he found out about your men asking questions?”
He was such a fool. He had not thought of criminals being so organized, but why not? “You make him sound like a lord of crime.”
She raised her face to his, startled. “I thought you understood. That is what he is.” She turned away and neither of them said anything for a moment. He could still smell the sweet perfume of the rose petals, crushed where her hand had become a fist, and looking down on her face, at the dark lashes against her cheek, some emotion rose up
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