“Did he? I’m afraid I was otherwise occupied.” She frowned. “You could not know that anyway. You were standing beside the doorway. His back was to you.”
Griffin was ridiculously pleased that she had noticed he was even in the room. She was, as she’d said, otherwise occupied. “He moved to the side. I saw enough to be convinced he was studying you.”
Amused, she said, “Perhaps he is an artist and will return with a request to paint me for the ages.”
“I believe he was trying to place your face, not contemplating painting it.”
“Well, that is disappointing.”
Griffin was not humored. “He knows you,” he said flatly.
“You’re wrong.”
“He simply does not know how he knows you.”
“I’ve never seen him before.”
“That may be true, but it doesn’t mean he hasn’t seen you.”
“Are you doubting me? You said it may be true, as if I were lying.”
“I doubt everyone. It was not meant to be critical of your character. I regret if I offended you.”
Olivia found the apology perfunctory, accompanied as it was by a careless shrug. “I don’t know him,” she said again.
Griffin believed she was still being evasive. “They have never been to my establishment before.”
She frowned slightly. “I’m not certain what that has to do with anything.”
“It is merely an observation. I believe word of you at the table has already spread.”
“Why would anyone make mention of it? Do gentlemen really have so little of import to discuss?”
“They must have their amusements.” He shrugged. “At the moment, you seem to be one of them.”
Olivia offered him a tight smile. “It is no source of pleasure to me.”
“I didn’t think it was. I mention it so that you will tread carefully. Foster tells me that Johnny Crocker played at your table tonight. A path would have been cleared for him. He’s of a formidable size.”
She thought back. “I recall such a gentleman. He was circumspect in his wagers. Hardly said a word. His interest was in my hands, not in my face.”
“He was observing whether or not you were cheating. He’s good at it himself, so I imagine he wanted to see if there was competition.”
“He played fairly and so did I.”
“Good. There’d have been a row otherwise. He has his own establishment and wouldn’t mind acquiring mine, not that I’d let him. I’ve heard Mrs. Christie’s name coupled with his.”
Olivia hardly knew what to say to that, so she offered nothing.
Griffin regarded her a long moment. “You don’t know Crocker, do you?”
She sighed. “You are considerably troubled by this notion that I am known to others or that they are known to me. I hardly recognize my own reflection, so why you think anyone saw through this painted face to my own makes no sense. It is far more likely that in the case of the foxed gentleman, he saw nothing more than was presented to him and was trying to put a name to a whore he once enjoyed.”
Griffin laid his arm across the back of the wing chair. “Have you been such a whore, Olivia?”
The directness of his question startled her to silence. He posed it with a matter-of-factness that he might have used to inquire if she had ever been to the theatre or if her preference was for scones over honey cakes. “I suppose I deserve to have the question put to me,” she said quietly. “I have given you reason enough to suspect it.” She drew in a short breath and released it slowly. “As you doubt everyone, I don’t know that it makes the least difference what I tell you, but no, I have not been a whore.”
“Are there those who would say differently?”
