Suddenly, her courage left her and she felt her shoulders slump. Embarrassed by her impassioned words, she tried to tug her hand away…but Bull tightened his hold.
“Yewhat, Rosie?” he whispered.
Her eyes closed as she tried to hold in all her emotions. “I…I just wanted to prove I was good enough. I wanted to help you solve this mystery and understand some of my family’s past. And instead I threw myself at you like a hussy and am now in very real danger of crying like a pugnacious spunkmuffin in a hired hack and you will not stop looking at me.”
He made a noise which might’ve been a snort as he squeezed her fingers. “There’s nae room in these breeches for a handkerchief, and ye willnae dare ruin that gown by dribbling snot on it, ye hear?”
The sartorial scolding was so unexpected, it surprised a burst of laughter out of her and Rosie sniffed. “I would not dare.”
“I didnae think ye a hussy, Rosie,” Bull said softly. “I was impressed by yer quick thinking, to kiss me like that to hide our identity.”
Right.
Right.Thatwas why she’d kissed him.
Try to remember that.
Not because she’d been dying to know what he’d feel like, pressed against her. Not because they fit together asperfectly as she’d always known. Not because she was already wondering if she could throw herself into his arms again and demand a repeat performance. Theywerealone, after all; scandalously alone.
But…
But he’d agreed it had just been part of the role. She’d said that, and he’d agreed, and she’d known he spoke his truth. He’d only kissed her back because they were pretending to be lovers, and to hide their identity. Their passion had been physical, yes, but—well, he was a man. His body had responded. Not his heart.
Bull sighed again. “Look, lass…ye’re right. Idoneed ye to get into Lord Tittle-Tattle’s graces. He’ll speak to ye, but no’ to me. And ye have a right to join this investigation if yer family is involved.”
Cautiously optimistic, her heart began to beat a little faster. “His estate is in Alnwick, on the way to Endymion.”
“Are ye headed home, then?”
Oh. She chewed on her lower lip. Had she not mentioned this to him? “Well…I was thinking. Mother has her mother’s collection of art. Some of those paintings have been in her family for generations, and although she is not terribly interested in them, they are what kindled my love of art theory. And there are more in the attics that I have not seen in ages.”
Bull sat upright slowly, moving his hat to the seat beside him. “Ye think she might have another piece of our mystery sitter?”
“I cannot remember any with a ruby necklace, but I thought if we brought Allie’s portrait to Mother, it mighttrigger some memory. She might even be able to tell us who the subject is!”
The noise he made was definitely a groan, but confused by a muttered curse. Something French?
Her lips twitched. “Do you have an issue with asking my mother for help?” Rosie deadpanned.
“I have an issue with being anywhere near yerfather, lass. He hates me.”
“Oh, Bull.” She squeezed his fingers again, affecting a pitying tone. “He does nothateyou, just because he beat you senseless,” she teased, remembering his claim from earlier in the evening. “You’re not special. He does that toeveryone.”
Another groan. “For fook’s sake, Rosie.”
Her grin grew in the darkness. “Bull, for the sake of your agency, would you like to accompany me to Lord Tittle-Tattle’s estate where there is a good chance we can solve this case, and from there on to Endymion where there is a good chance you will have your head kicked in like a coddleberry?”
His thumb pressed against the inside of her wrist as the hackney made the turn onto the street where Merida waited in her apartment. Their evening—the magical, self-changing evening—was coming to an end, and Bull wasn’t fighting with her about her worthiness in being involved.
In fact…
“Lass, I’m beginning to think this isyercase, and I’m just along to facilitate things,” the man beside her sighed. “Aye, let’s hie off to Alnwick. I’ll send a telegram?—”
“Do you think Lord Tittle-Tattle will answer?”
Bull snorted. “My fatherwasa duke, ye recall. I can act as haughty as the next bastard. But he’ll no’ turn ye aside, no’ with yer father’s title, and no’ if ye flatter him by kenning of his book.”
“Perhaps I can find a copy for him to sign.”
