Glory’s world spun as Mr. Chen came to his feet, pulling her with him. He placed himself between her and the newcomers.
The twin in pink said with a giggle, “From the way the serving maid was carrying on, the cove must be a very good boy indeed.”
“Who doesn’t like a gent who knows what ’e’s about, eh?” the other twin purred.
When she gave Mr. Chen a sly wink, Glory clenched her jaw.
“The ‘good boy’ I was referring to is my dog, Beauregard.” Whilst clad in irony, Scott’s tone had a core of menace. “Not the uninvited cove in my chamber.”
“Apologies, sir.” Mr. Chen was calm and in command. “Me and the miss ’ere were wanting a bit o’ privacy and stumbled upon this empty room.”
“The room was locked,” Scott said coldly.
“Begging your pardon, sir.” Gathering her wits, Glory resumed her role, coming forward with a contrite smile. “This is all me fault. I’m new ’ere, and downstairs, they said I could make a bit o’ the ready, so long as it were on me break. The gent ’ere made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, so I brought ’im upstairs. The door weren’t locked when we came in…maybe one o’ the maids didn’t close it properly? I’m ever so sorry, sir.” Nerves injected an authentic quaver into her voice. “Please don’t dismiss me. I promise it won’t ’appen again.”
She held her breath as Scott perused her with predatory eyes.
“What’s your name?” he asked curtly.
“Nellie, sir. Nellie Eccles.”
He directed his gaze to Mr. Chen. “And you?”
“The name’s Wong. I’m wif the Limehouse Lads.”
As Scott lifted his brows, Glory felt a rush of admiration for Mr. Chen’s bold and quick-witted move. The Limehouse Lads were one of London’s notorious dockside gangs, tales of their violent misdeeds regularly splashed over the front pages of newspapers. Their name invoked fear…even in their rivals, it seemed.
Scott’s eyes slitted; Mr. Chen returned the stare with a level one of his own. Neither man backed down. As the staring contest went on, shouting erupted outside the door.
“Smoke! Fire! Everyone run!”
Sure enough, grey wisps began seeping in from beneath the door. Glory sent up a prayer of thanks to Mr. Devlin. He must have set off smoking devices to extricate her from the situation.
The twins began to shriek, Beauregard barking in unison.
Scott swore under his breath. “Bloody night. All right, everybody out.”
They all exited the room. In the hallway, the billowing smoke created mayhem. People rushed for the stairs in a panicked wave, their momentum carrying Glory along.
An arm circled her waist from behind, anchoring her against a familiar hard form.
“I’m sorry.” Mr. Chen’s hoarse words heated her ear. “It won’t happen again.”
Before she could reply, he let her go, and the crowd swept her toward the stairs. Heart thumping, she twisted around, trying to look for him. But all she saw was smoke and shadows.
Eleven
“Glory, dear, we’ve a letter from your mama.” Aunt Hypatia waved a letter during luncheon the next day. “I’ll read it aloud, shall I?”
As Glory dissected a slice of ham, she tried to listen to her aunt, but she kept getting distracted by thoughts of Mr. Chen. The memories were like a lodestone, drawing her back to their kiss: the warm command of his lips, the thrilling weight of his chest pressing her into the bed. She’d awakened several times, panting and perspiring, tingling in unmentionable places. Even now, she was aware of a gnawing sensation in her belly. A hunger that had nothing to do with food.
This must be desire.
Glory finally understood what the fuss was about, and it made her feel giddy, nervous, and a teeny bit afraid. Like an explorer venturing into uncharted territory, she was excited yet tentative. She wasn’t certain how to proceed.
Was Mr. Chen only playing his role when he kissed me? Did he feel anything? Did he apologize because he is a gentleman…or because he regretted kissing me?
“Glory, are you listening?”
