“Are we in agreement?” he asked, his voice rough.
“You’re sincere in teaching me to be a better investigator?” She swallowed and tipped her head back.
The fire in her eyes rocked him back on his heels. Gone was the innocuous chit, the inoffensive miss whom his glance slid right over. The determination in her gaze was a force unto itself.
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I am perfectly sincere.” Her spirit would only make her a better student. Make it easier for him to remember her place in his life. Yes, this was all to the good.
She held out her hand. “Then I accept.”
He looked from her face to her hand and back again. She wanted to shake on it. As a good pupil would.
He gripped her hand, ignoring how small it was compared to his. How easily crushed it could be.
She was his student now.
He, her teacher.
Anything else just wouldn’t work.
Chapter Twelve
The bit of lead snapped beneath her fingers. Cassie had never attempted to take notes in a moving carriage before. She wouldn’t recommend the practice.
“The third step in an investigation is the development of a theory.” Charles stretched his left leg out, the tip of his boot brushing her skirts. He sat in the corner of the carriage furthest from her, his hat in his lap, peering outside to the streets of London as he laid out his process of investigation. “Of course, not everything will happen chronologically. You can still be gathering facts and evidence and analyzing it even as you try to validate your theory. Are you getting all this?” He looked at her sharply as she shoved her notes and the broken lead into her reticule.
She tapped her forehead. “I am keeping it all right here.”
He pressed his lips together. “You have a bit of…” He pointed to his temple.
“What?” She brushed her gloved fingers where he indicated.
He sighed. “You’re making it worse.” Sliding across the seat until he was in front of her, he took her wrist and held up her charcoal-stained fingers in front of her face.
“Oh.” Her skin heated. From embarrassment. From his proximity. His knees bumped against hers. His thumb brushed the bare skin above her glove. Good lord, but she was a ninny. Mr. Strait was a means to an end. Someone who could help her, even unwittingly, find her sister’s killer. And she was not the demure and blushing type.
He raised the brim of her bonnet and skimmed his fingers across her temple. He was just trying to make her presentable before their next interview, but the action felt like a caress. He was fixed on his task, but she couldn’t help noticing his eyes were the same lovely color as her morning chocolate. How his black hair curled lightly about his collar. Her fingers itched to tunnel into that thick hair, see if it felt as soft as it looked.
She struggled to breathe, her bodice feeling a size too small. Is this what her sister had felt for her paramour? It was hard for Cassie to imagine her sister allowing the liberties she had before marriage, before even becoming engaged, but this coiling lick of flame that seemed to touch Cassie everywhere at once when Mr. Strait touched her, well, she could almost imagine allowing such folly herself.
And she needed to stop thinking such nonsense. “How did you become an investigator?” she asked, steering her mind back to business. “Were you an apprentice to another agent first?”
“No, I already had my training when I came to the Bond Agency.” He lifted her chin, gave her face a quick examination, and sat back.
Her shoulders sagged, her body able to relax with distance now between them.
“I worked at my father’s grocer store. The larger his operation became, the larger his inventory losses. Instead of helping balance the books, I spent my time investigating those losses.” He plucked his hat from the seat and rolled it between his hands.
She couldn’t help herself. She wasn’t supposed to be curious about this man, but she was. “Does your father want you to still work for him? He’s built a small empire. I can’t imagine he was happy when you left.”
He stared out the window. “He still has hopes I’ll take over the business one day, but ultimately he wants me to be happy. He’ll accept my decision.”
How nice it must be to have a father like that. Cassie’s own would never accept her decision to be here in London. In his defense, her decision would be considered scandalous by most people. He’d also never exposed his child to a debtor’s prison, so there was that in his favor.
Mr. Strait rested his arm along the seat back. “Anyhow, my father pays a fair wage, but there will still be the odd worker who wants to take more than he earned.”
“So you have experience tracking thieves.” The carriage wheel hit a rut and she bounced in her seat.
Mr. Strait’s eyes flicked down to her chest then back up. “Yes. And one embezzler and even the source of a warehouse fire one time.”
