“You were out of your depth,” Cull said bluntly. “You needed help, and I provided it.”
Her cheeks reddened, the ring of gold blazing in her heaven-blue eyes. “Howdareyou presume to know me or what I need.”
Instead of arguing, he gave her the facts.
“After your husband died, you joined Lady Fayne’s operation. You’ve been working as a covert agent. You’re talented…but also reckless and impulsive. You have a habit of charging ahead on your own, of endangering yourself and the mission,” he summarized. “Tonight, you should have waited for the other Angels. Instead, you went after Hastings and nearly destroyed your cover. If the mudlarks hadn’t intervened, you would have tipped Hastings off to the fact that you were tailing him. That his own wife was having him investigated. In short, you could have ruined your case.”
Breathe. Stay calm and in control.
As a debutante, Pippa had been known for her sunny and amicable nature. She’d never liked conflict and found it natural to see the best of people and situations. In fact, sniggering wags had dubbed her “Patient Pippa” due to her drawn-out courtship with Edwin. She’d believed in his promises and waited years for him to come up to scratch. All she’d wanted was to spend the rest of her life with her true love.
What she got was a year of marriage, along with doubts about whether love was all the poets made it out to be. Well, that wasn’t true. She’d grown up with parents who adored each other, their passionate devotion a shining example of what she’d yearned for. Which meant that the problem wasn’t with love but with her.
Maybe she wasn’t the kind of woman who inspired unconditional love in men. Maybe that was why Edwin had kept her waiting for years, unwilling to make that final commitment. Why he’d kept secrets from her throughout their short union. And maybe that was why Timothy Cullen had kissed her once, left without saying goodbye, and now had the gall to lecture her like she was some ninny.
Although she strove to keep her surprise hidden, she was astonished by Cullen’s depth of knowledge about her. Knowing that the Prince of Larks had eyes and ears everywhere was one thing; having that attention placed onherwas another. She didn’t like feeling exposed.
Her training allowed her to keep her voice even. “My life is no concern of yours. You are not my husband, my family, not even a friend. You have no right to interfere.”
“There you are wrong, my lady,” Cullen said steadily. “I am your friend.”
“Some friend,” she scoffed. “As I recall, your last words to me were,I’ll see you later.That was fourteen years ago.”
He cocked his head like a predator sensing prey. “You remember what I said to you?”
Dratted man. No way was she going to let him know that she’d spent months secretly pining after him. Dreaming of her first kiss with the rough-edged lad whose soulful eyes had seemed to see to the heart of her.
“That’s hardly the point,” she retorted.
“Then what is?”
“The fact that you’re an unreliable bastard who has no right to tell me what to do.”
“Aye, I am a bastard. No arguing that, is there?”
At his bland reply, Pippa felt a stab of shame. She’d used “bastard” as a reference to his character, not his origins. She knew that Cullen and Maisie were born out of wedlock and raised by their mama. Cullen had taken care of his sister while their mother walked the streets to keep a roof over their heads, eventually drowning her miseries in drink.
As Pippa’s own papa had been born on the wrong side of the blanket, she believed that a person’s worth lay not in the circumstances of their birth, but what they made of themselves. Timothy Cullen, for all his high-handed ways, had looked after his sister and found her a safe place to land. And rumors of his ruthlessness aside, he’d carved out success as an elite purveyor of information and a leader who had the fierce loyalty of his group.
“I didn’t mean it literally,” Pippa muttered. “I was referring to your character, not your parentage.”
“Is that better or worse?” he said wryly.
“Since one has no control over the circumstances of one’s birth, one can do nothing about it. On the other hand, one has perfect control over one’s behavior,” she said pointedly. “One can, for example, strive to be less of a nosy and interfering jackanapes.”
His eyes glinted at her…then he barked out a laugh. The sound was as rich and warm as a drink of chocolate, and her tummy fluttered. She quelled the reflexive quiver of her lips.
“This jackanapes has your best interests in mind,” he replied.
“As I’ve said, you have no right to care about me or my interests.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “What is it that you’re really after, Cullen?”
“I’m looking out for you, sunshine. Your husband is dead, and you’ve pushed away your family. If you won’t take proper care of your pretty self, then I’ll have to step in.”
Her reaction was a jumble of emotions. Anger at his arrogance, shock at his acuity…and a teensy, mortifying spike of pleasure that he’d remembered the endearment he’d once used with her. An unbidden memory floated to the surface…
“Why do you call me ‘sunshine’? Is it because of my hair?”she’d once asked.
“Partly.”Despite his fading bruises and rough-hewn looks, his slow, crooked smile had made him the most handsome lad she’d ever met.“But mostly on account o’ the fact that you light up any room you enter.”
