Three Nights of Sin by Anne Mallory Page B

charity event,” she tacked on with satisfaction.
    “Well, I must retract my frittering comment in that case.”
    “It’s not frittering. It’s surviving.” She gritted her teeth.
    “Oh, yes. Social survival, is it not?”
    “Quite.”
    “That must be very satisfying.”
    “I find you irritating, Mr. Noble.”
    “I am most distressed to hear that, of course, Miss Winters.”
    He tipped his hat to two girls passing on the sidewalk. Marietta looked back to see the girls madly whispering, eyes wide as they watched him, girlish giggles rolling out one after the other.
    “Must you do that?”
    “Walk?”
    “Encourage them.”
    “I tipped my hat. Are you against politeness?”
    “At this time, quite possibly. My irritation borders dangerously close to dislike.”
    “Yes. I can’t say I’m fond of you either.”
    The lazy grin with which that was delivered made her heart speed up two notches. She was quite irritated by that as well.

Chapter 5
    M arietta closed her eyes in awakened bliss, then lazily opened them in the way of a contented cat. The smell of the herbs and feel of the warm steam on her face…the colors sharpened, from the tomato red hand towels on the kitchen rack to the daffodil yellow of the sunbeams peeking above the trees. Brought back into a world where color and optimism existed.
    She made a last sweep of her bowl with a piece of the rosemary and dill bread that had become her morning staple. Her belly had been full for days and she was finally beginning to fill back out. Her thoughts raced like a well-oiled phaeton instead of the sluggish, rusted hack she’d been. Her temper had improved as well, though Noble seemed determined to push it.
    She looked up to see amused eyes watching her. She blinked and the vibrant green was once again shadowed, the gaze arrogant. A picture of masculine confidence and virility, perfection leaning atop thedeeply scarred table littered with debris. One long-fingered hand rolled a perfectly formed walnut, hard and brittle, between his thumb and forefinger.
    She pulled the overlapping edge of her robe even further together, tightened like a trussed-up nun.
    His eyes fell to her robe, and she felt one layer shy of naked. “We are going to Cold Bath Fields today. You’ll need to wear servants’ garb.”
    She straightened, her hand still gripping her robe. “We are? Truly?” She felt light-headed. Kenny.
    “Yes. As soon as you are dressed.” He looked her over, his gaze taking in everything from her hair to her robe’s sash. “You shouldn’t need help changing.” His smile turned wolfish, though his eyes remained dark. “Unless you want my help, of course.”
    “That won’t be necessary.” That particular gaze did strange things to her. Her skin warmed, a low thrum beat inside her—and her teeth ground together in continued defiance of becoming one of his worshipers.
    She didn’t respond to his knowledge of her clothing. Clarisse had mentioned creating pieces along the same lines before. No doubt Noble had relieved more than one woman of her clothes in the years that he’d done this type of work. And he was right—one of the dresses was made up of three separate pieces that connected together in the front and on the side. She could handle dressing on her own. Mrs. Rosaire must have come to fix the meal and then been dismissed for the day.
    She ran upstairs. She was going to see Kenny.
     
    Marietta was unsurprised to discover they were walking to Cold Bath, even though it was quite a distance. For the last few days they had walked nearly everywhere. Noble seemed much happier on foot. Or perhaps he thought walking would annoy her. On the contrary, she enjoyed the exercise, but maintained a neutral expression to keep him from guessing her attitude. He seemed to always be watching her, tossing an unbroken walnut in perfect timing to his steps. In a game where he held all of the pieces, she had to get in her digs where she could.
    They approached the