It was not until they were alighting back in London that he could be sure she still remembered. He offered his hand to help her down and she hesitated as she took it. But it was not from fear or revulsion of him. There was something in her eyes that hinted at a fear of her own reaction. Her heart was not totally lost to him, if she had to fight the response to his touch.
But what did he feel when he looked at her? He looked after her as she moved across the pavement towards the town-house door. In a few steps, she might be out of his life, which would return to its comforting routine. Jobs would be started and completed. Clients would come and go. He would remain safe and unaffected.
Her rejection had hurt him, of course. But that was almost a novelty. He had been rejected by women before and had never experienced a pain like that caused by her denial during breakfast. He had gone to her room sure that a simple explanation would be enough to set things right. Surely a girl as proper as she was would see that a hasty marriage was the best protection for her honour. Instead, she had rejected him again. A part of him did not want to try a third time.
But then his thoughts had turned to his father again. He had always imagined a rake or a rogue who did not care about the pain he’d left behind when he left. But perhaps he was just a coward. Perhaps he had slunk away from the woman he’d loved and the family he might have had, because he’d not been brave enough to claim them.
He had formed his character with no other plan than to be different than someone he did not know at all. Perhaps that was why he’d fallen in love with the sort of girl who caused more trouble being good than any enthusiastic sinner ever had.
He hurried down the path until he was one pace ahead of her, blocking her way to the door. Then he smiled at her as he had when they were nothing more than client and employee. ‘If it is convenient for you, I shall return tomorrow at our usual time.’
‘Return?’ she snapped. ‘What makes you think I would wish to see you again?’
‘We have one item left to retrieve,’ he reminded her, pulling out the list that was still in his pocket. ‘A Chinese vase.’
‘You said you would locate it without my help.’
He shrugged. ‘I was mistaken.’
‘You are mistaken now.’ Her voice was shrill as if the idea of seeing him again drove her one step closer to madness. ‘I have no wish to see you, ever again.’
‘I have no wish to force my attentions on you,’ he said, as mildly as possible. ‘But I have a job to complete. It will go faster, and I will be gone sooner, if I have your help.’
She paused for a moment, as if weighing temporary discomfort with eventual freedom. ‘Very well. One day. If the search takes more than that, you must complete it on your own.’
‘Excellent,’ he said with another one of his professional smiles to put her off her guard. ‘We will do our best to settle the matter tomorrow.’
* * *
When Hope returned to the house, her grandmama was waiting just inside the door. ‘Well?’ the Dowager said, arms folded across her chest.
She stared expectantly back at the Dowager, wondering if, after all the stories she had heard about the foolishness of overly strict morality, she was about to receive a dressing down for her own fall from grace.
‘You were speaking with Mr Drake,’ the older woman said. ‘Have you settled the problem between the two of you so I can book St George’s for the wedding?’
‘There is no problem between us,’ Hope said, with a forced smile. ‘He was employed by Mr Leggett to help us fix the problem you created. Tomorrow, we are going out to find the Chinese vase. Then his job will be finished and we will see no more of him.’
‘What utter fustian,’ her grandmother snapped. ‘When I arrived at the manor, he was staring at you like a moonstruck idiot, unable to string two words together. And you looked like Eve, waiting for God’s judgement with the apple still in her hand.’
Had it really been so noticeable? How was she to go about London with him? Or without him, for that matter? Was it something that would fade with time? Perhaps it could be washed away.
‘Stop playing with your curls, Hope Strickland,’ the Dowager snapped. ‘If you are trying to look less guilty, you are making matters worse and not better. I’d blame your parents for dying before they could teach you to lie, but it did not seem to matter in Charity’s case. She is younger than you and there are days when I cannot get a single truth out of her.’
‘What am I to do?’ she said at last, dropping the charade and pressing her palms to her face to hide the blush. ‘I cannot see anyone looking like this. I certainly cannot meet the new Comstock. He will think me unchaste and want nothing to do with us.’
Grandmother shook her head in pity. ‘Do not waste time worrying that men will want nothing to do with you. There are more than enough of them who prefer a girl with a glow in her cheeks and a twinkle in her eye. They are nothing to be afraid of. If you are walking out with the man who put it there, they will leave you alone.’
‘I cannot spend the rest of my life in the company of Mr Drake,’ she whispered.
‘Well, not every moment. But once everyone is calling you Mrs Drake, it would be rather stupid of people to show surprise that he is bedding you.’
She turned back to her grandmother. ‘For the last time, I am not going to marry Gregory Drake. He has not even asked me to.’
‘He has not asked?’ Surprisingly this seemed to bother the Dowager more than anything else. ‘Then I shall have him dragged back here immediately to do right by you. And there will be none of this nonsense about punishing him for his hesitation by refusing.’
‘That is not the problem at all,’ Hope replied. ‘He said it was his duty to marry me.’
‘And so it is,’ the Dowager said, with an exasperated shake of her head.
