“There are many things that don’t apply to the toffs that do to us.” Wil crossed his arms over his chest and peered down at him. “Like bedding an innocent without the offer of marriage.”
Charles stilled. He couldn’t possibly mean—
“Next time you spend the night at Miss Moore’s home,” Wil continued, “be kind enough to send our driver on his way so he isn’t freezing his arse for hours on end waiting for you.”
He meant him. Charles pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out a breath. “It’s not what you think.”
Wil arched a black eyebrow. “Isn’t it?” He leaned forwards, resting one hand on the back of Charles’s chair. “The ton can get away with their affairs and intrigues. There’s money enough to hush things up or to purchase a lady a husband on the quick. We don’t have that luxury.” He glanced at Cassie, pity in his gaze. “Be careful with her.”
Charles’s gut churned, regret, shame, and resentment battling for dominance. This was what happened when a person opened the partition between boxes. A muddled mess. He’d known better.
He stared at Cassie, at how the slanting sunlight pouring through the windows made the wisps of hair about her face nigh on glow.
And he knew he’d probably do it again.
“Thank you for your concern,” he said stiffly, “but I can assure you that Miss Moore’s interests will be protected.” She wasn’t the right sort of person for him to marry, he knew this, but if an accident happened, if his seed took root, he’d do the right thing. And he didn’t need Wilberforce, as kindly as his interference may be, stepping in to be Cassie’s champion. That was his role now, and he always fulfilled the duties of his roles.
As if she knew they were talking about her, Cassie excused herself from the group around Hurst’s desk and made her way over to them. She gave Wil one of her placid smiles, the one that hid so much of her personality. It was a shock to see it back on her face.
“Well, now that the investigation into the thefts is over, are we to be assigned a new case?” she asked the manager.
“As soon as another one comes through our door.” Wil stood. “Your work was most satisfactory, Miss Moore. If you’d like to gain experience working with another investigator, I believe Mr. Verity can—”
“She’s my assistant.” Charles pressed to his feet, trying to keep his jaw from jutting out mulishly. Cassie wasn’t a toy he wanted to keep for himself, it was just that they had found a rhythm working together. It would be a shame to lose it, that was all.
“Mr. Strait and I do work well together,” she agreed, and some of the knots in his shoulders released. “But if we have nothing to work on at the moment, might I have this afternoon free to run some personal errands?”
“Of course.” Wil wrapped his knuckles on the desk. “Now I’d better be getting back to my job. I’ll see you two later.”
Charles waited until the man was out of earshot. “I don’t suppose those errands can be postponed?” He trailed his finger over the back of her hand. “We do have an afternoon free. I feel like we should take advantage of it.” Before he came to his senses and called off their affair.
Or before she did.
“No, they can’t.” She looked to where their hands touched. Her eyebrows drew together. “Charles.” She hesitated. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you about something.”
“Yes?” His heart gave a strange thump in his chest. She was calling it off. She hadn’t seemed to regret their indiscretion last night, but things always appeared differently in the light of day.
She took a deep breath and met his gaze. A conflict raged behind her eyes. “It’s something I should have told you earlier. Something important.” She swallowed. “You see—”
A loud crash had their heads snapping towards where Hurst lay sprawled on the floor, his chair splintered about him.
“I did tell you to concentrate on your balance.” Hereford cocked one hand on his hip and stood over the fallen man.
Hurst merely groaned in response.
Cassie hurried to the coat rack and slid into her pelisse.
Charles trailed after her. “What was it you wanted to say?”
She gave him a tight smile. “We can talk later. Right now it appears Mr. Hurst could use your assistance. Some ice for his back, perhaps.”
“Hang Walter.” He took hold of her elbow. “If it’s important….”
“It isn’t.” She squeezed his hand then stepped away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” And like mist in the early morning sun, she slipped away.
Leaving Charles staring at the door. Frowning, he stomped back to his desk. “Do you need a sawbones?” he asked Hurst.
The man used his desk to pull himself to his feet, wincing. “No. What I need is—”
