“It doesn’t take forty minutes for you to look the way you do.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” she bristled.
As if to mock her, a lock of her hair escaped its pin and tumbled down her face.
She saw the investigator’s eyes spark on her before she swiped the lock away.
“What I meant was…” He did his best to appear impassive, but the husky resonance of his voice exposed him. “…you’re just as, um…you look fine without all the maintenance.”
“Maintenance?” She relaxed her gaze on him and crooked her mouth. He certainly did not possess a silver tongue.
The investigator looked at her father and then at her again. “Attention. Upkeep.”
“I see.” So then, he did think she “looked fine”. He hid it well. “Do I call you Detective?”
“Call me whatever you want,” he replied impassively and finished the last of his food.
“Ah, Detective, don’t leave it open to me. You may not like what I come up with at times.”
He glanced at her and she thought the power in his gaze was captivating.
“I can take it,” he assured her. “Just watch out for retribution when it comes.”
Her father laughed nervously, and the investigator winked at him again. Whatever it was meant to convey, it appeared to calm her father.
“Charlotte,” her father said with authority, “you will control that tongue of yours. You are in no position to bicker.”
She wanted to leave the table. She was sitting here for his benefit! But she offered her father a smile. “As you wish.”
“Good,” he said. “Now, I know that you are picking pockets. Do not bother to deny it. You have left me no choice. I’m sending you to your Aunt Louise in Otford.”
“Father! No!” She bolted to her feet. “I will not go! I will go mad with nothing to do there!”
“Precisely,” he countered. “There will be no one to rob. Now, Daughter, I have warned you.”
“Aye, you have,” she agreed, growing desperate. She cast her dark eyes on the detective and trembled. Another lock of hair sprang loose and bounced to her shoulder. This was his fault. Since she’d met him, he’d been nothing but trouble. “You have,” she told her father calmly, breathing slowly. “And I have abused your mercy. But I will not touch another pocket. You have my word.” She pulled on a ruffle along the cuff of her gown and a small hankie came out. She held it to her nose and sniffled. “Do not send me away.”
“Charlie, what am I to do with you?” her father lamented. “Very well. Very well.”
She looked up, her tears continuing to fall. “You will not send me away?”
“No,” her father surrendered, letting out a loud sigh when she bowed her head and thanked him. “You will remain here, in the safety of your home, under the careful guard of Investigator Pendridge.”
She blinked at him and let the last of her tears fall. “Pardon?”
“Yeah. Pardon?” Pendridge echoed.
“You have no place to stay while you visit,” said the duke. “And I need an experienced eye to watch her.”
“Watch me? What does that mean?” Charlotte demanded. “I refuse to be watched!”
“I will pay you in coin and also with a new pistol—”
“Father, you are aware that you are giving a stranger charge over me? You are giving him a pistol? You must stop this!”
“I accept,” the stranger announced with a slight, triumphant smile.
She waited a moment until she could relax and unclench her jaw. “Very well.” Let him think he won. Let her father think it, too. They would soon discover how wrong they were.
