Sutton cupped her elbow and drew her around to face him. The heel on her new boot slid on a cobblestone, and she tumbled against his chest. He didn’t step back. Neither did she.
The baron inhaled deeply, the buttons of his coat pressing against her breasts, making her tingle all over. The black centers of his eyes grew large, became so wide and liquid she thought she would drown in them. He was an enchanter, ensorcelling her, and she was unable to look away.
Cupping her neck with his warm palm, he brushed a wisp of hair from her cheek with his thumb. “I’m trying to prevent any harm from coming to you, Colleen.”
The hair on her nape raised. Hearing her Christian name on his lips … When he’d used her given name the night before in front of Pinkerton and the earl, she’d thought it a mere slip of the tongue. And she’d berated herself over the thrill it had given her. Such a small thing, hearing her name from a man’s mouth. Small, but precious. Her husband had rarely called her Colleen, preferring to address her as Mrs. Bonner. The baron’s deep rumble calling her name felt like a feather tickling her eardrum, and she wanted more.
Their chests rose and fell as one. Sutton lowered his head an inch, and her gaze dropped to his lips. What would his mouth on hers feel like? He was a hard man, forceful. Would his kiss be the same?
She’d never know. Stepping back, she ignored the chill that swept her body. Burying her head in the blooms, she inhaled, trying to replace Sutton’s raw, masculine scent. “A laudatory goal, to be sure.” She took another step back. “But as Mr. Pinkerton now works for you, I hardly see how I am in any danger.”
Sutton’s hand slipped from her arm, and their connection broke. A numbness spread through her chest.
“We can’t trust Pinkerton, not fully.” Sutton rubbed the back of his neck. His black hat sat crookedly over his large crop of dark curls. “And we don’t know how many others might be under Zed’s control. You can’t let your guard down.”
“Well, isn’t this a treat?” a lilting voice cooed from behind Sutton.
Colleen stepped to his side. Molly and Lucy stood there, each with a hat box wrapped in string dangling from their fingers. They both wore wispy gowns and tight pelisses that were just a smidge on the right side of decency, looking smarter and more daring than this neighborhood usually saw.
Sutton nodded at the women. “Ladies. How are you today?”
“Not as well as some.” Molly gave Colleen a significant look, one Colleen didn’t even try to interpret. “Lucy and I were shopping at one of my favorite milliners.”
“In this neighborhood?” Colleen arched an eyebrow. The women at The Black Rose were paid well for their talents. Colleen could hardly fathom they’d purchase any of their clothes in this working-class district.
Lucy glanced over both shoulders. “It wasn’t my first choice. But Molly insisted. And the shop did have good prices.”
“And what are the two of you doing here together?” Molly stepped forwards and laid her gloved hand on Sutton’s sleeve. She arched her back and lifted her chest. “If you were looking for female companionship, all you had to do was ask for me.”
Colleen tightened her fists, crushing the stalks of the daffodils. The strumpet was practically shoving her breasts in the baron’s face. The pair of them looked quite absurd together. Molly, dainty and delicate, and the baron a wild-bearded mass of masculinity. He needed someone much more sensible than an insubstantial lady-bird. Someone he wouldn’t be afraid to dishevel.
For the right price, however, Molly could be whatever he needed. She was by far the most skilled lightskirt at The Black Rose. Molding her personality to suit whomever she entertained. The members clamored for her time, and Colleen had spent many an hour trying to calendar the girl in so she could meet the most requests. The members loved how perfectly attuned Molly was to each of their needs; and each of their needs were quite varied. She was a chameleon in a silk gown.
The men found her mysterious and alluring. Colleen was not so easily misled. Molly liked money. She liked shiny things. And she liked telling men what to do. Colleen had witnessed the girl at the handle-end of a whip too many times to mistake the glee in the girl’s face when she made a man beg. Molly could play the servant when called upon, but her true nature reveled in being in control.
Sutton shifted closer to Colleen, and her heart warmed. “A kind offer,” he told Molly, “but I assure you I am not without companionship.”
“As I see.” She looked Colleen up and down. “But unless our new manager has an untamed side she keeps hidden under that waistcoat, I’m sure you’re not getting everything that you need. If you ever want to play, come find me. I can take the heat.” And with a wink at Sutton, she threaded her arm through Lucy’s, and the two of them strolled to a waiting hackney.
Sutton pressed his lips into a white slash. “I believe she thinks that you and I have begun a liaison.”
“Yes.” The harlot believed that Colleen wasuntamedenough to set aside her morals and engage in an affair with the baron, but too domesticated to meet the baron’s more exotic needs. Her shoulders sagged, her body feeling heavy. Not for the first time, Colleen wished she were that woman. The type to loosen the strings on her stays and kick off her petticoats. But that wasn’t how she was raised. She wouldn’t know how to be that woman. And even though such behavior might be pleasurable, it still wouldn’t be right.
“I’ll catch her up and set her straight.” Sutton tugged his hat down and took a step towards the hackney.
“Don’t bother.” She grabbed his sleeve. “It hardly matters.” And a tiny part of her didn’t want the boring truth to be known. She wanted someone out there to believe her just a little bit dissolute.
“Now”—Colleen pulled her pocket watch from her waistcoat and checked the time—“I need to be getting back to the club. That luncheon isn’t going to serve itself.”
Setting her shoulders, she started off down the street.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“I told you.” She looked over her shoulder and lowered her brow. “Back to the club.”
“You’re walking?”
“That is how I typically make it from one point to another.” She paused when a group of dogs ran in front of her, the lead mutt carrying a meaty bone in its mouth. This morning’s walk had been almost enjoyable wearing the boots she’d pulled from the bottom of her wardrobe. The thick soles had cushioned her feet and lengthened her stride.
