However, when she spied the book sitting innocuously on an end table, heat instantly sufficed her, as she recognized it as the one Devin had been reading when he’d been performing those delicious exercises in the library. Just bringing that day to mind likely added to the rosiness of her color, so she hastily averted her eyes.
“Constance?”
She turned at the sound of Luke’s voice. They had dispensed with the formalities long ago. “Yes?” She steeled herself for whatever he might say.
“Tha’ baronet is ’ere for ye.”
Her brow lifted at the resentful tone in his voice. “Something tells me you don’t care for Sir Isaacson.” She didn’t add that she was inclined to believe the same.
“I can’t say tha’ I do.”
Constance was curious now. “Do you mind explaining why?”
His eyes narrowed and his beard twitched, as if he was considering what he should reveal. “I guess it wouldn’t ’urt t’ warn ye about ’is character.”
Every instinct went on alert. “Have you two met before?” she asked.
“Only in passin’,” he admitted. “When ’e tried t’ ’ang Devin as a thief.”
“What did you say?” she breathed.
“Th’ baronet promised Devin a large payday if’n ’e did a job for ’im, then deceived ’im when ’e got what ’e wanted.” Luke’s expression hardened. “It was only due t’ Devin’s mistress at th’ time, who was a countess, tha’ ’e was spared an’ sent t’ Australia instead.”
Constance stilled. She had no idea the baronet and Devin had a history. Why had Devin never said anything? Surely he would have thought that to be pertinent information considering the baronet was a current acquaintance in her life.
“I appreciate that you confided in me,” she told Luke. “Rest assured, I will ensure that your caution is not in vain.”
Constance was climbing into the baronet’s carriage when she glanced down the sidewalk and saw Devin striding back toward the townhouse. He looked up and caught her gaze just as she shut the door behind her. After what Luke had just told her, she didn’t think it was a good idea for her to linger and allow Devin a chance to tangle with Sir Isaacson.
The gentleman in question tapped on the roof of the carriage and they set off at an easy gait. “Good morning, Mrs. Hartford.”
One problem at a time, Constance told herself as she regarded the slick-backed blond hair and piercing, blue eyes of the baronet, who eyed her as though she was a peach, ripe for the plucking. Now she wished she’d worn puce.
But at least now she was under no illusions as to why they were having this chat. “I assume I’m not here to talk about what pleasant weather we’ve been having lately?”
He smiled. “You are very astute. Which is why I was drawn to you upon your arrival in London.”
Constance remained silent, as she wasn’t about to tell him she knew this city like the back of her hand—including the sections that weren’t that savory.
He reached out and took her hand, rubbing his thumb along her knuckles. “Since I have the feeling you appreciate directness, I was hoping that we might turn our association into something a bit more… exclusive.”
She eyed him tolerantly. Luke’s warning was still swimming around in her mind, as well as Devin’s kiss upon her lips. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
“Oh, come now, Mrs. Hartford.” She didn’t miss the emphasis he put on her title. “There’s no need to be coy with me. I know who you really are.”
Her heart began to pound. “And who is that?”
He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “There aren’t many people who would forget a lovely face like yours, my dear, but even fewer still who could ignore the talents of Madame Corressa that were bandied about White’s.” He leaned back slightly in order to gauge her expression, but she kept it perfectly neutral. “There were many who thought you might be the death of old Huntington.”
Constance fought to withhold a wince at the familiar name. Lord Huntington was one of the reasons she’d ended her association with English aristocracy and London in general. He had been entirely too tenacious for her tastes, although he showered her with countless gifts. While she had vowed never to entertain a married man again, his wife had enjoyed her share of lovers during their marriage, so Constance had pushed aside her moral compass in favor of the funds needed to keep Montfree’s afloat, as it wasn’t easy running a successful business. It was only that way with a lot of hard work and dedication. And money.
Constance considered lying, but then realized it would be no use. It appeared that the milk was already spilled at this point. “That’s the problem with gentleman’s clubs,” she murmured. “There is entirely too much vilifying of women. If any of you had known the old codger at all, you would know that he didn’t last long enough in the bed chamber for his health to ever be a concern.”
Surprise flashed in the baronet’s eyes before he threw his head back and laughed. “You are an intriguing woman, Madame Corressa.” She cringed at the use of her pseudonym, because she knew he wouldn’t treat her as anything more than a glorified whore now. But perhaps she deserved it for a life filled with drudgery and sin.
Her companion sobered. “I guarantee you wouldn’t have that problem with me.” She resisted the urge to snort, as every man always liked to brag about his own worth. Even Devin, but in his case, it was actually warranted. “Does this mean you will consider my proposal?”
“As much as I would be honored to be the recipient of such a request,” she said. “I fear I must decline it.”
