“I’m not keen on dessert,” I say, fixing my gaze out the window as our coach crosses a bridge over a sunlit canal.
“Mr. Phillips,” Edwina says, “may I inquire about the bruises on your hand?”
“Oh, this?” Monty spreads his fingers over his knee. Purple bruises flush his knuckles, and a few are even scabbed over.
“It’s nothing, Miss Danforth. I simply petted a cat a little too hard in the alley last night.”
The soft look in Edwina’s eyes tells me she knows exactly how he got those bruises. Which also means she must remember what happened last night. While I’m grateful Monty taught the lion fae a lesson, I would have done so too if my priority hadn’t been seeing Edwina safely to her room. Now he’s the one receiving her tender gaze while I was treated like a common criminal for spending the night in her room.
“Don’t admire me too much,” Monty says. “I was bored last night, that’s all. I’d take any excuse to beat a man senseless. You may not know this, but beneath my smile, I’m a fount of bottomless rage.”
He says it all with a dimpled grin, so I haven’t a clue if he’s jesting. I’ve only known the publicist for just over a week, and so far he’s seemed equally flippant about life and work.
“Still, it is rather heroic,” Jolene says from beside me. Her hand falls upon Daphne’s back in an idle stroke.
The pine marten stiffens and rounds on the girl, teeth bared. “I am not a pet.”
Jolene flinches back. “Sorry! It was just a force of habit. I have six cats?—”
Daphne leaps off the bench and bounds to the other side of the coach, planting herself beside Monty.
“Daffy Dear is feral indeed,” Monty says to Jolene, then poses another question for Edwina. “How are you feeling about the bet you made last night?”
“Oh, fine. Just fine. Everything is…fine.” Her words come out in a rush.
Damn. I still need to find an opportunity to let her beg me to dissolve our bargain. But if I’ve learned anything in the last twenty-four hours of our acquaintance it’s that her pride onlyswells before an audience. I’ll need to get her alone. The less I say about it now, the better.
So I clench my jaw and firmly hold my tongue, even when Monty speaks again.
“Want any tips?” he asks. “I consider myself a bit of a romance expert. An unofficial matchmaker if you will. In truth, it’s the job I wanted before I applied at Fletcher-Wilson, but the matchmaking agency didn’t take my track record of one seriously.”
“You’ve matched a couple before?” Jolene asks, leaning subtly closer to me. “How much do you charge?”
“You wouldn’t believe it by his actions, but Monty already has a job,” Daphne says in her dry monotone.
“Clever,” Monty says with a smirk at the pine marten before returning his attention to Edwina. “Come, Miss Danforth. Ask me anything.”
“Well,” she says, reaching for the seat beside her. She frowns when her hands meet only air. Perhaps she was looking for her carpet bag. Or that little notebook I’ve seen her scribbling in. She smooths her hands over her skirts instead. “What stirs your desire, Mr. Phillips?”
Her cold and methodical tone contrasts her words. They’d sound flirtatious coming from someone else, but she poses the question like an inquiry about the weather. It takes some effort to hide my grin.
“Oh, I’d rather not make you blush,” Monty says, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “But I can say, in general, men simply want to please their lovers. We want to do whatever makes you feel good.”
“What makesmefeel good.” She echoes his words slowly as if they’re foreign to her.
Monty’s brows lift. “Don’t tell me…do you not know your own preferences? Your favorite positions? The places you like being touched most?”
Edwina’s mouth falls open, her cheeks turning pink. She’s saved from answering as Jolene sits forward in her seat. “Oh, she absolutely does. She has so much experience. Did you not know? She’s done everything she’s written about.”
Edwina grimaces.
“Is that so?” Monty says, stifling a laugh. “Well, if you’re ever curious to explore in a safe and neutral place, Miss Danforth, come to me.”
“Swine,” Daphne mutters.
It takes all my restraint not to voice my agreement. My fingers curl into fists.
“Oh?” Edwina tilts her head. The moment she comprehends his offer is marked by an even deeper flush of her cheeks. “Oh! That’s…rather…”
