Her father was unimpressed; instead, he narrowed his eyes. “Why was he so close that he could touch my daughter?”
“Why was he overserved in your club?”
“That is a question I mean to get to the bottom of?—”
“It was m—” Sophie began.
“Sophia!”
“The why of it hardly matters. As you can see, she is unharmed. And he’ll not forget himself again.”
Hughes retched pathetically in agreement.
“Is he right, Lizzie? You’re unharmed?”
“I’m perfectly well, Papa.”
“And this is the man responsible for all the fuss?”
“Yes,” she said softly, not sparing a glance for Sinclair—still, she could feel his smug smirk directed at her back.
“You’ve never set foot in my club before. Why now?”
“I wanted to introduce myself.”
“And you thought this was the best method?” Papa asked.
“Over allowing him to touch Miss Eliza with cruelty? Yes, I rather did. I’ll not apologize for it.” Eliza’s heart fluttered at the matter-of-fact tone. Sophie was right; neither of them had been in real danger with Bash there. But Sinclair… He’d taken action before she had time to gasp.
“It wasn’t my original intention, if that matters,” Sinclair said.
“Sebastian!” Papa called. The man appeared from whatever corner he’d found to hide in. “Take Sinclair to my office and ask Augie if he can escort the girls home.”
“I can take th—” Bash offered, as he had often before.
“Absolutely not. Augie. If he cannot, then they will wait in his office until I finish with Mr. Sinclair.”
“Lord—” Eliza corrected, unthinkingly.
“He could be the bloody king and I wouldn’t give a damn.”
Bash merely nodded before mounting the stairs, not turning to see if Sinclair followed. He did, but not without catching Eliza’s eye. The look he gave her was significant, but she couldn’t interpret it.
“When you’ve finished, you can dispose of this one in the alley,” Papa called after Bash.
“Yes, sir,” he called back from the balcony.
Sinclair gave one last look at the scene below, his gaze seeming to linger on Eliza, before he disappeared behind her father’s office door, taking all the air with him.
Chapter Seven
Benedict forcedhis mind to his father’s disapproving face, desperate to regain control of himself. He mounted the stairs after the dark-skinned dunner with one last cheeky look at Eliza.
That display of confidence, competence… it was captivating.
Bella would be pleased to learn that he’d used the opportunity to playact at being the hero. The effort should at least endear him to Eliza, if not to her father.
“Wait in here and don’t touch anything,” the man, Bash, ordered. His distrustful expression disappeared when the door slammed in Benedict’s face.
