“You’re certain you saw De Witt go in there last night?” Harry said under his breath.
“Certain as death.” Doolittle’s slurp from his tankard left a foam mustache, making him look like a drunken cherub. “For days, the bastard was giving me the slip. But I turned the tables on ’im yesterday.”
Earlier, Doolittle had given a summary of his rather extraordinary surveillance. On the first night, he’d tailed De Witt to Crockford’s; De Witt hadn’t emerged from the gambling club until nearly dawn. On the second night, Doolittle had decided to take matters into his own hands, slipping into the club and disguising himself as a member of the staff. He’d followed De Witt and made a startling discovery: there was an old tunnel in the basement of Crockford’s that connected it to the building next door.
Forced to follow De Witt at a distance, Doolittle had emerged in time to see De Witt exit the other building and hail a hackney. On the third evening, Doolittle had taken no chances. He’d borrowed a friend’s hackney and lain in wait by the building next to Crockford’s. Sure enough, De Witt had emerged, and Doolittle had picked him up, driving him to the present location.
“The ol’ cheeseparer didn’t even tip me a bob for my trouble,” Doolittle said in disgust.
“You were spying on him,” Harry pointed out.
“’Edidn’t know that.”
Harry refocused on the warehouse. “What is our plan for getting inside?”
“Patience, my four-eyed friend. We can’t just barge in. Been watching the place since last night, and five brutes are working there, the leader being twice my size. But, ne’er fear, Ol’ Alfred’s got a plan.” Doolittle tapped a finger to his temple. “We ’ave to wait until the moment is right.”
“When will that be?”
“When I give the say so. And while we cool our ’eels, we might as well ’ave a chat.”
“About what?” Harry tried the ale, surprised to find it wasn’t half-bad.
“Like I was saying, we’ve things in common. Both o’ us got a way wiv the ladies, for instance.”
“I wouldn’t dream of comparing my skills in that arena with yours.”
“What can I say? Morts like me.” Doolittle flashed a gap-toothed grin, wiping his ale mustache off with his sleeve. “But you’re playing yourself short, my friend. Don’t know a single cove who could’ve kept Tessa from coming ’ere tonight. ’Ow’d you manage that feat?”
“With a great deal of trouble,” Harry muttered.
Specifically, he’d spent the afternoon reasoning, arguing, and negotiating with her. When none of that had worked, he’d kissed her into submission. Or, rather, he’d kissed her until neither of them could breathe andthenhe’d told her he couldn’t focus if he was worried about her safety. Only then had she promised him in a sweet, love-drowsed voice that she would stay put until his return…as long as he filled her in on everything.
Compromise was proving a winning strategy with her.
“She ain’t an easy one, our Tessa. Now me, I’m a lazy chap who likes ’is ’ens biddable, but you’ve the look o’ a bastard who likes a challenge, eh?”
Beneath Doolittle’s knowing look, Harry’s jaw heated. Bloody hell, was it that obvious?
“I’m her bodyguard,” he said.
“Don’t mean you ain’t something else, too.” Opening the paper twist of roasted chestnuts he’d bought from a street vendor, Doolittle shelled a nut, popped it into his mouth. “Seen the way you look at ’er, and seen the way she looks at you. Known ’er most of ’er life, I ’ave, and I ain’t e’er seen ’er look at a fellow that way.”
“In what way?” Harry couldn’t help but ask.
“Like ’e’s a fellow, that’s wot. Not a pigeon to pluck or an ape to defy or a target for one o’ ’er pranks.”
“I’ve been those, too,” he muttered.
Still, he couldn’t help but feel proud that he was the first man Tessa had seen as, well, a man. That he would be her one and only. And he was beginning to question his belief that he couldn’t love again. What he felt for Tessa was different from what he’d felt for Celeste.
It was deeper, stronger…real.
“Aye, and you’re still standing, which is probably why she’s got ’er ’eart set on you. Question is, what are your intentions?”
This from a fellow who had a different “wife” for each day of the week.
Harry lifted his brows. “Youare asking if my intentions are honorable?”
