His lordliness held no sway over her. “Your brother is Asquith.”
“Then Jamie.”
Mild shock ran through her at the suggested familiarity. But then lords had their own rules and tended to make them up as they went along. “How about I call you nothing?” she retorted. “We won’t be in each other’s company long enough for it to matter.”
His head cocked. “No?”
What was the blasted man playing at?
“Why are you following me?” She might as well get to it. “I can assure you I didn’t abscond with the family silver.”
He snorted, cool, dismissive. “As if I care about the silver.”
She mirrored the cock of his head. “A curious point.” She allowed a loaded beat of time to pass. “What is it youdocare about?”
Even in the near dark, she detected a shadow pass within his eyes. He cared about something or someone. Orhad. She tamped down her instinct to pursue the line of intrigue. “Can you, at least, answer the first question? Why have you followed me?”
“I saw you leaving.”
“That is generally what a servant does when she is dismissed from her master’s employ.”
The suggestion of a smile tipped at his mouth. “You said it yourself. You were never my servant.”
She wanted to unleash a frustrated sigh, one she refused to indulge. He would likely enjoy it too much. “Which continues to beg the question.”
“You’re an associate of my brother’s.”
She was near enough now to notice the thick fringe of black lashes encircling his gray eyes. They would strike the heart of any woman green with envy. “A fact established in your study.”
“You’re one of his spies,” he stated with perfect certainty.
She was beginning to take a genuine dislike to this brother of Nick’s. “Simply a favor for an old friend,” she bit out.
One side of his mouth curved, imbuing his face with a saturnine cast. “You’re too young to have old friends.”
The cheek of the man. “Neither my age nor my whereabouts are of any concern of yours. Now, I really haven’t the time or inclination to involve myself in sibling politics. So, if that is all, I have matters to attend and a night to get on with.” An efficient pivot of the heel, and she was on her way.
“Wait,” he called.
With great reluctance, she stopped and half turned, her eyebrows lifted in silent question.
He gestured up and down the length of her person. “Why are you dressed as a lad?”
Her body reluctantly followed the turn of her head. “A man, you mean. As a woman, I would be dressed as a man.”
A dry laugh sounded through his nose. Maddening condescension radiated off him in waves. “Have you glanced in a mirror? You appear no older than a lad of ten years.”
“Is that all?” she ground out. She didn’t have to stand here and be insulted, even if she half suspected his words were true.
He gave his head a slow shake. “You haven’t answered my question.”
“I don’t owe you an answer.”
“Would you consider giving it for free?”
Was that a flash of playfulness she detected in his serious gray eyes? “Everything in life is transactional,” she said, the words the truest she’d spoken all night. “I bid you good evening, Clare.”
She spun around and bolted up the sidewalk. Immediately, his heavy step began dogging hers.Blast.The man might be rich, spoiled, arrogant, and condescending, but he was tenacious, too.
