His lips quirked as he drained his wine glass. “Enough, I should say.”
“And you’ve never wet your fingers?”
“No, Eliza. I leave the thieving up to you.”
At that, she laughed.
CHAPTER TEN
“Odd thatI’ma thief, whilstyouhave got access to all the money in England.”
Mark offered her his hand. She stood, slowly, and allowed him to lead her down the corridor. “We’re an unlikely pairing, indeed.”
It was too late tonight, but some evening, he would tell her about the band of American forgers who nearly ruined the Bank. As a boy, the crime had horrified and intrigued him. There were many such stories of counterfeiters, embezzlers, and bank panics that would send a money-minded man diving beneath his bedcovers.
Eliza would enjoy such tales. No doubt she would side with the criminals.
When they reached the staircase, she dropped his arm and turned to face him. Her blue eyes raised to meet his, and for a moment, he believed she might kiss him.
Mark braced himself to pull away. Why?
She was pretty enough, young. Clean. Scrubbed and dressed for dinner, she no longer had the stink of the streets clinging to her hair or her clothes. Really, she looked quite civilized.
Eliza had comported herself admirably through dinner, navigating the table settings and making conversation. She hadn’t wolfed down her food or slurped her wine. Seated across the table from her, watching candlelight dance upon her rosy cheeks and copper dinner frock, the evening had been pleasant.
Mark had enjoyed himself immensely, so why did he recoil at the thought of taking her into his arms? She was no innocent, no virgin. She’d already propositioned him, so he need not bother with seduction. He could have her tonight, if he wanted.
Although his body found her appealing, his mind would not allow him to forget that she was a vulnerable young lady sheltered beneath his roof. Only a cad would take advantage of such an arrangement.
She stepped back to a more comfortable distance. Her silken skirts whispered across the marble floor, dusting the toe of his polished shoes. Eliza placed her uninjured hand upon the newel post to steady herself.
“Thank you for supper, Sir Mark. It was a lovely meal.”
“You’re quite welcome.”
“If you don’t mind, I think I’m for bed.”
Of course, she must be exhausted. He felt rather weary himself, but it was still too early to retire. The hall clock had not yet chimed ten.
He bowed to her. “Goodnight, Eliza.”
She gave a little curtsey, and then turned to make her way up the stairs. Eliza held her skirts in her injured hand, clutching the railing with her left. She limped and struggled, still sore from her beating.
Mark watched her ascend. As she stepped onto the landing, he caught a flash of silk-clad ankle. She wore black evening slippers with a Louis heel and dark stockings embroidered with vines and flowers.
For a woman accustomed to life on the street, she had delicate ankles. Slim, slightly muscular calves. Mark recalled the way she’d looked in her granny-drawers, faded woolen stockings, and bindings when he’d helped her undress earlier.
He pictured her undressing now, peeling off layers of silk skirts and petticoats. Her corset, chemise, and drawers would fall free, and then she’d bend to slide off her garters and roll her stockings down to her toes.
Eliza would unpin her hair, brush it, and plait it. She would find a clean, fresh nightdress to wear, and gingerly slip the soft garment over her head. Then, his street urchin-turned-houseguest would tuck into bed and drift off to sleep in the room next to his.
Mark strode into his drawing room. The draperies had been pulled closed for privacy. A solitary lamp illuminated the comfortable space. He went to the sideboard and poured a second brandy.
Sipping the strong drink, he settled into an armchair and propped his feet upon the fender. He listened to the sounds of carriage wheels and horse hooves on Green Street. Pedestrians chatted and laughed as they made their way home for the night.
He heard the clatter of his servants clearing away supper and tidying the dining room. The groan of water pipes and footsteps shifting the floorboards overhead.
Mark listened to it all, knowing exactly where Eliza was, and what she was doing. She was safe. She was warm and well-fed. She washere.
