Using a side door, he exited onto a narrow street next to Westminster and turned for his office.
Lady Richford might have been like a pebble in one’s boot. A minor annoyance at first, but if one couldn’t remove it? If the annoyance never left, was a constant pinch whenever one turned?
Well, what might a man do to get rid of it?
Chapter Twenty
Eleanor
The hushed voicesand angry gesticulations weren’t what Eleanor was expecting of the conversation between Edgar Bannister and Miss Lydia Abbott. They looked as though they knew each other much better than a son to his mother’s friend should. And hated each other.
A sharp point of bark dug into her hand, even through her glove, and she loosened her hold on the ash tree she hid behind.
The grounds in front of the Queen’s House were a good place for a meeting. It was open and innocent, a place where many couples and individuals happened into one another, strolling the paths around the lake in St. James’s Park. There was enough space to find one’s conversation completely private. Eleanor couldn’t hear a word they said.
But they should have had more care with their expressions.
Miss Abbott shook her head, her face pinched in disappointment, and turned to leave. Bannister watched her go, his face red. He took off his hat and slapped it against his thigh before replacing it. He started to leave but was stopped by a man calling his name. This conversation seemed more amicable.
“What are you doing?”
Eleanor jumped, her heart pounding so hard it hurt. Spinning, she pressed a hand to her chest. “Mr. Rollins! You shouldn’t sneak up on people.”
“What are you looking at?” He crowded into her, resting his forearm above her head on the tree, and peered around the trunk.
His throat was at her eye level, the strip of flesh above his collar so close she could roll up onto her toes and kiss it.
Her cheeks heated.Thatwas a very inappropriate direction for her thoughts. “I was looking at nothing. Merely taking my afternoon walk.”
He turned his face to look down at her. “And your walk just happened to follow the path of Edgar Bannister?” His arched eyebrow expressed his disbelief even more than his tone.
Eleanor leaned back, pressing her spine to the trunk, trying to make some space. “It would appear so.”
“Do you have an assignation with Bannister?” Mr. Rollins narrowed his eyes. “What exactly is the man to you?”
Eleanor sucked in a breath. The Runner’s mind was always interpreting her actions in the worst possible light. She pushed on his chest, but he didn’t move. “He is an acquaintance, nothing more. And one who is a suspect in the murder we all agreed to investigate. For one whose job is deduction, I would have thought my reasons for being here obvious.”
“If you believe he might truly be a killer, you shouldn’t be anywhere near the man.” He looked around the tree again, his jaw clenching. “Keep your questions to the ladies at The Minerva Club.”
Eleanor’s chest tightened. She was torn between kicking the buffoon in his shin and curling into his chest. It had been so long since anyone had shown a concern for her safety. So long since she’d felt safe. And for all the vexations Mr. Rollins caused her, she couldn’t deny his presence felt like a shelter no danger could penetrate.
She restrained herself from doing either action.
He dropped his arm from above her head to the section of trunk by her waist. When she turned to leave in the other direction, he grabbed the other side of the trunk.
Trapping her between his two arms.
She ignored the frisson of excitement that danced up her spine and gave him her most severe look. “Mr. Rollins, you do not have the authority to direct my behavior. You are not my father, brother, or husband. Stop this foolishness and release me.”
He lifted his right hand, brought his palm up the length of her arm, his touch so light she wasn’t sure she didn’t imagine it. He followed the line of her shoulder, her neck and jaw, before brushing an errant curl off her cheek with the pad of his forefinger. “No, I’m none of those things, and it is a shame you don’t have a father or brother to keep your behavior in check. Is it not customary for a lady to at least have a maid accompany her when she travels out of doors?”
“I haven’t always been a lady.” She shifted her weight, her leg brushing against his boot. “There was a time my family had very little money, certainly not enough for an abigail to traipse about after me as I went out to work.” If he was surprised by her admission, he didn’t show it. There wasn’t the censure in his expression that she saw in so many of her acquaintance if she ever broached the topic of her former employment. “Now that we can afford such luxuries, I find I have neither the desire nor the need to pay someone just to follow me about London.”
“It’s for your safety.”
Eleanor huffed out a laugh. “It’s for appearances only. If someone wished to do me harm, I can assure you that Emmy, my maid, would provide no obstacle. I could blow her over with one puff from my fireplace bellows.”
He frowned, the skin around his eyes wrinkling. They were exceptionally lovely eyes. A deep green, like moss over old stone,that did funny things to her stomach. The shrewdness in them made her stomach churn for an entirely different reason.
