“I said don’t…” He sighed. “Two rows down, ten seats to the left. The man who is glaring positive daggers at me. Though I do say, he looks handsome angry.”
She looked where he indicated, her breath stalling in her lungs when her gaze clashed with Mr. Duffy’s. “How on earth did he find me?” she said, then winced as her neighbor glared at her. She lowered her voice to a whisper again. “I have to get out of here, Bertie. Cause a distraction.”
He dipped his chin. “I’m not that type of friend, Jules. Besides, the play is enough of a distraction. Wait until the interval and slip out with the crowd then. Though why you want to get away from that man, I don’t know.”
She slid down in her seat, hoping to disappear from sight. Or at least fromhissight. His glare did funny things to her stomach. Things she attributed to fear of being caught and sent back to Bluff Hall, but worried might actually be from another cause.
She wouldn’t be attracted to Mr. Brogan Duffy. Yes, he was handsome in a blunt sort of way. And if her father wasn’t in danger, if her independence wasn’t at risk, then the idea of him pursuing and catching her for a whole other purpose could be…diverting.
But her fatherwasin trouble. Shewasvulnerable to having her agency stolen away. And having been raised by a father who’d told her she could do anything her male counterparts could, that thought was particularly intolerable.
As soon as the lights went up, she pushed her way down her aisle, in the opposite direction of Mr. Duffy.
She didn’t see him in the crowd of theatre-goers surging for refreshments in the lobby, no matter how often she peered behind her.
But she could feel him.
Tracking her.
Hunting her.
And even though she didn’t want it, a small kernel of excitement blossomed in her chest. It was with something almost like regret that she burst through the front doors of Covent Garden, like a cork from a bottle of champagne, and waved down a hansom cab.
The driver stopped. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, but tipped his cap at the solo female just the same.
She climbed inside and blew out a breath. As exciting as Mr. Duffy proved himself to be, he had left her in a bit of a pickle. He’d seen her with Bertie; she couldn’t spend the night at her friend’s apartments. Where should she go? What were—
The door sprung open just as the cab started to move. Mr. Duffy clambered inside, his face an emotionless mask, and slammed the door behind him.
He settled next to her, facing forward, saying nothing.
Juliana twisted her fingers around her pocket-book. Her skin went clammy, then hot.
“Where to?” the driver called down to them.
She bit her lip, sliding Mr. Duffy a sideways glance. Even if he wasn’t here, she’d be hard-pressed to answer that question. But his answer would be worse than anything she could come up with.
She opened her mouth, but Mr. Duffy cut her off. “Vincent Street. A block north of St. Mary’s.”
The address wasn’t familiar. It definitely wasn’t her family’s usual London lodgings. “Where are we going?”
He grunted.
“How did you find me?”
“I followed you from Mr. Huddleson’s home.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “You don’t have that many friends.”
“I have plenty of friends!” Her face flushed. But most of them were also Snow’s friends.
She glanced at the door opposite.
Mr. Duffy gripped her elbow. “Don’t even think of it.”
“Jump from a moving cab?” She sniffed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
He arched an eyebrow.
She grumbled. Well, she wouldn’t think of it, not when he held her arm so tightly. “I could always scream,” she said.
