“Sure thing.” Fitz nodded, pocketed the envelope, and strode off as quietly as he’d appeared.
Leopold’s biggest buyers, shopkeepers on Bond Street, would be happy to take ownership of the contents of this week’s haul—colorful silks, intricate lace, and no less than a dozen barrels of rare spices.
Leopold would inspect the goods in the morning before sending it all off to London.
There might even be some yarn that Amelia might appreciate…
Amelia had said she wouldn’t miss the Season, but did she miss shopping on Bond Street? Folding his arms across his chest, he allowed his thoughts to go where he’d purposely denied himself all night.
He’d almost felt… like a bloody gentleman, sitting at his table across from a beautiful lady. But she wasn’t just any lady. No. She was…
Amelia.
By God, the sooner he conceded that notion, the sooner he’d stop being taken by surprise.
Her insights, her observations and revelations, had knocked him off balance more than once.
He wasn’t used to it.
And he shouldn’t like it.
Leopold dropped his arms and fisted his hands. Like some besotted suitor, he’d said she was more valuable than all her father’s jewels.
Am I?she had asked without guile, wanting to hear what ought to be obvious.
Of course she was more valuable than jewels. No amount of money could compare to her worth.
Much earlier that day, while showing her one of his favorite views from the house, he’d barely kept himself in check.
He’d felt the pulse racing in her wrist. And although he knew for a fact that she couldn’t be wearing perfume, her scent never failed to make him want more of her.
To taste her.
And he might have, if she hadn’t come to her senses.
He would have laughed if he hadn’t been reeling from the sting of rejection.
Of course he was a bloody smuggler.
He’d assumed she saw him for who he was—an orphaned thief. She ought to have realized he was a man who’d done unthinkable things to scrape his way out of the gutter.
When she’d revealed how utterly delusional she’d been about the matter, thinking he was someone upstanding despite all evidence to the contrary, it had felt like a slap in the face.
But they’d cleared that up for now.
At least he hoped they had.
Of course you’re more valuable than jewels, you’re… so much more.
But he hadn’t answered her plea.
Their acquaintance would be over in, at most, a few months; more likely, a few weeks. Crossings would either be killed or put in Newgate, and Amelia would go back to being…
Lady Amelia.
He’d told Winterhope he would treat her like a lady. And last he’d heard, protecting did not include any of the ideas Leopold was getting.
She was all innocence—not a child, but virginal. He, quite the opposite.
