“Excellent. It’s decided then.” A smile of satisfaction tucked into Em’s cheeks. “With all of us working together, we’ll capture the villain in no time.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Taking the arm he offered, Primrose alighted gracefully from the carriage.
“We’re at your club?” Her veil didn’t dampen the excitement in her voice. “Is this my surprise?”
Andrew hid a smile. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”
Steering her past his guards, he led her through his private entrance at the back of the club. She’d pestered him about her surprise the entirety of the ride over. When that hadn’t worked, she’d playfully attempted to seduce it out of him. She’d peppered his face with kisses, her bottom wriggling enticingly in his lap—and she’d done this knowing that a coterie of his men had been right outside, riding along for protection.
Something had definitely changed in her since their lovemaking last night, he mused. Perhaps that mirror had helped her to see how beautiful and sensual she was, peeling away another layer of her inhibitions. He couldn’t wait to see what else lay beneath. His little minx was taking to sexual exploration like a duck to water, and anticipation simmered in him as he thought of the games ahead.
“I need to fetch something from my office, and then we’ll be off,” he told her.
“Off to where?” she said immediately.
“That’s for me to know, you impatient wench.”
Although she pretended to pout, she took the hand he held out to her, and they traversed the hidden corridor, sounds of the club filtering through the walls. Past midnight, the festivities were just getting underway.
“I can’t stay out too late.” She’d pinned up her veil, her eyes luminous in the dimness. “I have plans on the morrow. I’m paying a visit to—”
“Mrs. James and the dowager countess. Yes, I know.” He aimed a wicked look at her. “I’ll try not to tire you overmuch.”
“How did you know about my plans?”
“Kent told me.”
“Papa?” She blinked owlishly. “You spoke with him today?”
“Most every day, sunshine. To coordinate your protection.”
He stopped, opening the panel that led into his office. As he led her into the room, she was uncommonly quiet. Pensive. He recalled her initial resistance to him contacting her father, his buoyant spirits deflating. He couldn’t blame her for wanting to minimize her family’s exposure to him. He wondered if she was embarrassed about having an ex-prostitute as her lover, and his gut balled.
“The meetings are brief and address only the plans for your safety,” he said in clipped tones. “Your father and I discuss nothing personal. I have no wish for an appointment with him at dawn.”
“I trust you.” Her voice was quiet as she removed her bonnet and veil, placing her woolen cape over the back of a sofa.
“Then why are you disquieted?” Opening a drawer of his desk, he searched for the key he needed with studied carelessness.
“I’m not disquieted; I’m surprised. Papa didn’t mention that he was meeting with you. Actually, I am glad that you and he are getting to know one another.”
He gave her a swift look. “Are you?”
“Yes. I imagine the two of you get along. Being so alike.”
“You think yourfatherand I are alike?” he said incredulously.
Ambrose Kent was a gentleman, one who commanded respect due to his honorable character and pursuit of justice. Andrew was a bastard and a pimp.
“Well, yes.” Primrose faced him across the desk, running a gloved finger over the polished edge. “You’re both men of honor. Both protective of those you care about.” She wrinkled her nose. “And you both like to tell me what to do.”
Her words flooded him like sunlight, reaching into his darkest corners and chasing away shadows—ghosts that he hadn’t realized still lurked. Out of nowhere, Bartholomew Black’s voice emerged.Every man’s got a weakness. Beware o’ females, Corbett—they’re yours.
Andrew couldn’t deny that he’d been used by women in the past. By Kitty, his customers, even his former employee, Nicoletta, who’d manipulated him as part of her nefarious plot against the Earl of Revelstoke. He had ample reason to be cynical, hardened toward the opposite sex.
Yet with Primrose, he couldn’t form any sort of callus over his emotions. With her, he felt everything. She was different from other females: she didn’t just take from him… she gave.
