“No suitors waiting in the wings?”
“No.” It was appalling to admit such to a man like the one across from her.
His eyes weighed her, and she feared he could see deep into her soul. “You could weather this storm, tainted though you’d be. But your working with me may ruin any future offers from your strata.”
“I know.” The admission didn’t come out quite as strongly as she’d hoped.
She longed for a stable home of her own, one where she needn’t worry about the next meal or the roof over their heads. But she had learned after her parents’ deaths that flights of fancy needed to be buried deep. The type of man she desired was not to be found among her decreasingly small pool of acquaintances, and her sharp tongue had culled the rest of the herd quickly.
Mark had charge of her for another year and was intolerant of the lower classes. He steadfastly refused to let her marry a merchant or businessman…not that she knew any. And at this point she doubted even a merchant would want to be saddled with someone so closely related to the Middlesex murderer.
“You could distance yourself from your brother Kenneth.”
She shut her eyes tightly and shook her head.
“Yes, I could,” she whispered. “But it would show poor character were I to care more for my marital prospects than for my brother’s life.”
He tilted his head. “We shall see.”
She stiffened, and the fear, the despair, once more disappeared behind a cloud of anger. “Must you be such a bear, Mr. Noble? I don’t recall having done anything to earn such animosity.”
He drew the leather lazily through his fingers as he regarded her, eyes piercing and weighing. “I’ll need to see your brother’s rooms and go through his belongings.”
“As you will. Tomorrow—”
“No. We will go now. You need to gather your possessions, and we have less of a chance of being followed at this time of night.” He rapped the trap.
“Gather my possessions? To what do you refer?”
“I’ll need you close.” He uncurled from the seat as the carriage made a turn. Rising to his full seated height, he looked down at her with his heat-provoking face and cold eyes. “You will need to move into a house of mine. Somewhere we will attract little attention and can come and go as we please.”
“Wha-What?” She sputtered. “Stay with you?”
“You just said it wouldn’t be a problem, Marietta. Seeing as you aren’t worried about your reputation—”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t worried about it,” she hissed. “I’ll do what’s needed, but what you’re asking hardly seems necessary.”
He pulled his gloves on, tugging one finger at a time. “So you could leave your home at any time of night without attracting attention? No matter what you are wearing? You could stroll outside and no one would say or notice a thing? Excellent.”
She suddenly had a vision of wearing something entirely inappropriate and walking down Golden Square. They had thrown rotten vegetables today and yesterday. What would they throw if she wore something outrageous? “Where is the house located, and who will be with us?”
Fingers worked to straighten each covered digit. “It’s close to the East End, where we will be spending more time. There is talk of renaming your brother the Clerkenwell Killer, since two murders have taken place there. We should hunt there first, don’t you agree?”
His mocking tone rubbed her. “And what staff do you have in place?”
“Staff? No, no staff. It will be just the two of us.”
Her jaw dropped and she tried to say something, but nothing emerged.
“You are in luck. I’ve just finished a case and can devote myself completely to this task. And it…interests me. Now, let’s gather your belongings.”
“I can’t stay in a house with justyou.” An idiotic response, as they had just finished talking about her battered reputation and lack of marital prospects. At least her belligerence survived.
The door opened.
“I assure you that my tastes don’t run to waifish brunettes. You have no cause for concern on my account.”
He barely spared her a once-over as he exited the carriage, and it stung her vanity, little though she thought she still possessed.
