“You stole from him too?” Mr. Stanton looked down at her, his face aghast. It was actually quite adorable. “Goodness, woman. What is wrong with you?”
“You haven’t let me finish my story,” she reminded him. “Now, my father was a very loving man, but not one you could say was a good example.”
“Was he a thief as well?”
Here, Honora sobered. The giddiness of being with Mr. Stanton and the thrill of the evening evaporated. “He was. And he taught me well.”
Mr. Stanton slipped his arm out of Honora’s grasp, turning toward her with a furrowed brow, his lips slightly puckered. “Why are you telling me all of this? You hardly know me.”
Honora swallowed. How could she say that she had no one to confide in without sounding completely pathetic? And so, she tried something else. “Need I remind you that you are the one who insisted. Besides, you are an excellent listener.”
His chest rose with slow, measured breaths as he watched her. “I am a reserved and quiet man. Do not mistake it for anything else.”
Goodness, his sullenness only made her want to try harder and get some sort of reaction out of this man.
“I will guard myself,” Honora teased. “Now, when my late husband passed, I took the small bit of funds leftover from my dowry”—Goodness, this was such a lie—“and invested them with your friend, Mr. Andrew Langford. And I must say I was quite impressed with him. My funds did well, and I now live the life of a wealthy widow.”
“And yet, you steal. Do not pretend I have forgotten about that.”
“That is more of a bad habit than a necessity.”
“A very bad habit.”
Honora would be hard pressed to say there had been any amount of friendliness in this conversation, but if there had been even a miniscule sliver before, that small bit had been pulled out, and there was now nothing but tense frustration on the part of Mr. Stanton.
“I will not try and explain myself to you, for there is no way you possibly could understand. Nor do I condone my own actions.”
“That is something, I suppose,” he drolled.
Her mind buzzed, and an idea eased its way into her mind. A way to keep him involved. “I have a different proposition for you.”
“Just when I think you can get no more audacious, you prove me wrong.” He rubbed a hand over his cheek as he glanced away from her.
“I was going to say,” she said, propping a hand on her hip, “that if you help me right my wrong to Mr. Hind, I promise I will be done with my thieving ways.”
Mr. Stanton’s face contorted in some sort of amalgamation of a frown, grimace, and outrage. “And I should believe this, why?”
“Did your friend Mr. Langford say I was dishonest in my business dealings?”
His eyes narrowed as his features settled. “I would say he doesn’t really know you well.”
“But did he say I was a good client?”
With this, Mr. Stanton paused. “He did.”
“And there you have it.” She threw her hand up. “If I tell you I will stop, I will stop.”
He ran his tongue across his teeth. “Why not just stop? Why need I be involved at all?”
“Because I am willing to pay you.”
“You mean, the money you already owe me?”
“Yes, yes, of course. But I will pay you even more on top of that.”
“I think you misunderstand me, Mrs. Gillingham. The only reason I need funds now is because my investments are tied up at the moment, and I did not wish to pull them. I do have money, though it would be tight. But ultimately, it was the issue of availability that had me in a scramble.”
“Surely you could find something to spend the money on.” This wasn’t good. Mr. Stanton didn’t seem to be budging in his opinion at all.
