He moved to clear the dishes and cutlery and she moved to the basin. She washed each item and stuck them into a rack to drain. He pulled a cloth out to dry and they worked in a charged but comfortable silence until she placed the last dish in the rack.
“Where are we headed tonight?” She found herself on edge in anticipation of his answer. Of what they might find. Or what they might need to do in the interim.
“One would think you enjoy the forays into the underbelly of the city.”
“Hardly the underbelly. We’ve barely stepped foot in the East End.”
“For someone like you, the East End would be farther than your worst nightmare. The areas outside of Mayfair are the underbelly for someone of your station.”
“Says the man with the enormous house in Mayfair.”
“Says the man who didn’t always have that house. You, on the other hand, are used to the genteel aspects of life.”
“I worked and went to various unsavory parts of the city to pay our bills.” She lifted her chin.
“Perhaps.” His eyes were keen. “But they were probably positions at the same level as the barristers’, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Not in the same level as the true East End.” He nudged her aside and washed a cup that he had found somewhere in the kitchen—one of his many coffee cups, to be sure—and placed it in the rack to dry. “Where did you work?”
“I sewed for a seamstress near the Strand. And did some knitting and assembly at shops nearby.”
“Industrious of you.”
She gave him a look that said how much she appreciated being called a battle-axe once again. She picked up the drying towel and his cup from the rack—the last item inside. “You didn’t answer my question. Where are we going tonight?”
“Nowhere.”
Disappointment rushed through her. “Oh.”
“Are you disappointed because we won’t be furthering your brother’s case or because you won’t get to kiss me?”
She nearly dropped the cup. She put it back in the cupboard. “Because we won’t be furthering my brother’s case. Don’t be silly.”
“You realize you can kiss me anytime.”
Her heart picked up speed. “Don’t be silly.”
He leaned against the high table. “Don’t be coy.”
“Why would you even want me to kiss you?”
“You don’t find kissing pleasurable just in and of itself?”
“Yes. No!” She was like a child’s string, tied in knots and being pulled willy-nilly.
“You have me confused. Which is it?”
“Kissing is fine. Not too wet or slimy.”
“Mmmm. Sometimes wet is excellent. Slimy, though, I’ll give you that. I’m happy that our kisses haven’t been too slimy for you.”
She tried to ignore his taunting. “But they are only for show. For getting the information we need. For helping Kenny.”
“I see. So you are only interested in kissing to help Kenny? Is that why you are so keen to go out? Because you can only kiss me if it’s in the line of furthering the case?”
“Yes. No! I just think we need more information.”
