“I could ask you the same question.”
“What business do you have in Lombard Street?”
He glanced at Knight’s redbrick house. “Presumably the same as you, although I cannot imagine what you are doing out here alone.”
The idea he might be concerned for her safety made her irrationally still more angry. “You, I am convinced, cannot have any business with Mr Knight.”
“As it happens,” Henry said, “he’s not home.”
“Then you might as well leave.”
He cast her a look that was just as scornful as her own. “I had not come here with the intention of seeing him, as you know very well.”
“Then why?”
“Really, Louisa.” He sighed. “Can you not guess?”
“If it is for the reason I suppose, then you are a greater fool than I had already credited you as being. My business is none of your concern.” Her nostrils flared as she attempted to keep her voice low. “Leave.”
“Not until I escort you to safety. It’s not safe on these streets alone, as you well know.” He glanced behind her, to where voices floated along the breeze. Drunken laughter followed. “Come,” he said, gesturing down the street. “Do you have a cab nearby?”
“I am not goinganywherewith you,” she hissed. “And I am not sacrificing this opportunity.” Ignoring his outraged splutter, she strode to the side door and tugged at the handle.
Locked.
No. She scanned the houses in case she had made a mistake, but this was definitely the right one—save the lack of candle in the window.
Had her page been discovered? He had sent the note not two hours ago.
Henry, damn him, followed her, a spectre in the darkness. “What were you hoping to achieve?”
“Be quiet while I think.”
He stepped closer, providing a human shield in front of the drunkards merrily making their way home from the tavern. “Are you so inclined to put yourself in danger?” he demanded, his voice low. An unexpected shiver ran through her at his proximity. He smelt just as she remembered, warm and slightly spiced, like winter days and long nights by the fire. Woodsmoke and desire.
Even after all her years of liaisons and pleasure-seeking, nothing had ever made her feel alive as he had.
The knowledge made her hate him all the more, and she shoved at his chest, forcing him back a few steps. “I don’t believe that is any of your concern.”
“You’ve made that perfectly clear.”
“Then why are you here?”
His jaw tightened and he looked back at the house. “You know why.”
“No, I mean why even try and act on my behalf?” After all, when she had come to him for help nine years ago, he had decidedlynothelped her. “That’s hardly in your nature.”
His gaze returned to her face, and it was as though he had trailed his fingers across her skin, the path they travelled burning. “And what do you know about my nature?” he asked, an odd note in his voice. Not mockery, precisely, but dry, self-deprecating amusement. Another reminder that these nine years had rendered them strangers.
“I know that you are finally searching to marry.” She folded her arms. “It has only taken you nine years to be ready. Congratulations.”
“Obligation is not worthy of celebration.” His jaw tightened. “Your quest to easily enter the house has failed. Please, Louisa. Return home.”
She was so close to stopping Knight once and for all. Or at least, being far closer to saving her reputation. “You go home, Henry. Leave me to this.”
“No,” he said, and closed his eyes as though he was in pain.
She attempted to slip out past him, but before she could bolt—where she was going, she had no idea—a carriage clattered down the street, coming to a stop on the main street outside Knight’s house. Henry’s hand came pointlessly to her elbow, but she remained where she was, watching as Knight and another manclimbed out. The second man was a stranger to Louisa. Certainly he was no member of theton. Even at this distance, she could tell by the cut of his coat, the way he walked, slouching along the pavement, his shoulders hunched as though he was preparing for a blow at any moment. No gentleman she knew walked like that.
