“Never mind.” He strode for the hook by the door and gathered his coat and hat. “From now on, ask me if you want to go somewhere for the investigation. And we won’t be getting any more done today. You can go home.”
She did up her coat. “Don’t you want to know if I learned anything?” There was a barely perceptible edge to her voice, and Charles had to remind himself that there was more to this woman than her gently-bred appearance would imply.
“Did you?”
“I did not.” She strode past him to the door, chin barely raised. “But I could have.”
Charles’s lips twitched. That’s him put in his place. Miss Moore made him feel like a chastened child. A bit like a mother or sister would. Perhaps he should put her in the category of family, since he didn’t know where else she belonged.
But he would never allow a female family member to work at an agency of inquiry.
He held the door for her and followed her down the steps to the street. “Shall I hail you a hackney?”
“No, I thank you.” She adjusted her reticule strings over her elbow. “It’s not far. I’ll walk.”
He fell into step beside her, and she paused, looking up at him from under the brim of her bonnet. “What are you doing?”
“Seeing you home.” He frowned. “What did you think?”
“That’s kind, but there’s no need.” She marched forwards again.
He easily paced her. “It’s not kind; it’s what is right. Women shouldn’t walk the streets of London alone when it is getting dark.” Regardless of what category she fell into, that truth remained.
She muttered something under her breath but argued no more. They walked together, if not companionably, then at least civilly. The business district their office was located in melted gradually into residences, the sort trades and businessmen might own, then growing in size and grandeur.
“We have been walking over a mile,” he finally said. “I thought you said it was close.”
“I said it wasn’t far. There’s a difference.” She pressed her lips together and shot him a sidelong glance.
“Why didn’t you let me hail a hackney?”
“Cabs cost money.” She huffed. “If you don’t like the walk, you needn’t have accompanied me.”
Darkness had fallen, but gas lamps at the front of the houses provided enough illumination to see her face. She must be tiring, as she no longer maintained her imperturbable façade. He examined her more closely, this woman he was to work alongside of. She walked with brisk efficiency, her posture erect, her form tidy. Her coat only hinted at the figure beneath, but Charles suspected if she wore better fitting clothes, her body wouldn’t be as unmemorable as she made it appear. As for her face….
Well, she would never be considered a beauty. Her upturned nose was charming enough, he supposed, and her eyes could be considered lovely in their own right. But there was nothing striking about her. Nothing that would draw a man’s gaze and hold it.
His eyes dropped to her lips. Pursed as they were in her pique, they plumped out above her round jaw, the upper one curving in a most delightful bow shape. Small tendrils of lust curled through his belly.
Well, hell. For the plainness of her face, Miss Moore had a most kissable mouth.
He snapped his eyes forwards. Tup. Marry. Ignore. He wanted so much to fit her into the latter box, but she worked for him, damn it. He couldn’t ignore her. He couldn’t tup her. Even if he’d been interested, she wasn’t the type. And she definitely wasn’t the type of woman he’d marry. Too bold in finding employment at an inquiry agency. And her mannerisms all spoke of her being gently bred, not someone who would be compatible with his working class upbringing.
She stopped in front of a three-story townhouse. The steps up to the front porch were cracked, the oil lamps dark. But even with the obvious signs of neglect, it was a beautiful home, and one that must have cost a pretty penny.
Charles assessed it, then assessed her. Curiosity hummed in his veins. He’d spent so long irritated with being saddled with Miss Moore, he hadn’t spent much time considering her circumstances. “You live here?”
“I rent a room.” She scraped her teeth over her bottom lip, and his gaze was again drawn to her mouth. “Though keep that quiet, if you please. The woman who lives here doesn’t want it known she isn’t in the strongest of financial positions. I am officially her guest.”
Charles crossed his arms over his chest. Enough blunt to rent a room, but not enough to waste on unnecessary cabs. He had assumed she was a peer of Lady Mary’s, the daughter of a friend, perhaps, but maybe she had another association with the daughter of an earl. A former maid?
“What are our plans for the morrow?” she asked. “Do you have someone else you wish to interview?”
He didn’t contradict her use of the word our. If she was going to be running out of the office at a moment’s notice, he might as well bring her with him on any interviews. Well, interviews that weren’t conducted anywhere unseemly, like gaming hells.
“Where would you suggest?” he asked her, more to figure out how her mind worked than because he actually wanted her advice.
“I think we should speak to the latest victims again. Inquire whether they noticed anyone paying particular attention to the wife’s jewelry. As you hadn’t wanted to reveal our true identities at the house party, our ability to ask them pertinent questions was limited.”
