Just as he opened his mouth to greet her, she beat him to the punch. “Good evening, Mr. Stanton. I hope I am not intruding.”
“Not at all. I had been anticipating your appearance.”
“Oh?” Her eyelids drooped low. “You flatter me. I had thought you did not like me.”
Leonard rolled his eyes. “I don’t. I only mean to say that I want this situation over and done with. The sooner the better.”
“It’s always about getting down to business matters with you, isn’t it?” She stepped further into the room, but rather than taking a seat, which Leonard gestured toward, she surveyed the walls. “I believe that you are more fun than you let on.” Her eyes flicked to him. “At least, I hope so for your future wife’s sake.”
“I am rarely more fun than I am now. And you need not concern yourself with a fictitious woman’s future.”
“Ah, but she isn’t fictitious. Just unknown to you. More of a mystery, rather.” Mrs. Gillingham walked around a vacant chair, then surprised him by taking a seat. Of course, it wasn’t the one he had offered. That would have been too predictable. Too easy. And Mrs. Gillingham didn’t seem the sort to do either.
“Whether fictitious or mystery, it is none of your concern,” Leonard said.
“She.” Mrs. Gillingham lifted a gloved finger into the air. “Let us sayshe.Itmakes her seem inhuman.”
Leonard sat and leaned his elbows on his knees, scuffing his hands over his face. “I may not evengetmarried,” he bit out. “So whether mystery or fictitious or human orit, does not matter.”
Mrs. Gillingham sighed, sinking into the back of her chair until she morphed to its shape while placing a hand to her brow. “Poor woman. I pity her already.”
“What is it that you need?” His voice was nearing begging status, and he hated himself for it. “I just want to know what you need from me, so we can move on with our lives and be done with this mess.”
A sigh sounded from her chair, but he was looking at the floor with his head cradled in his hands.
“Very well,” she said. “I shall get on with it.”
He closed his eyes. “Thank you.”
“You may want to hold your thanks.”
He opened his eyes and glanced up at her. “Why?”
Mrs. Gillingham’s features took on a more professional appearance. Her haughty, teasing smile was gone, and instead of loafing in her chair, she sat straight as a pin. “I peddled the necklace several weeks ago, you see. So, I tried to get in touch with my middleman—the man I use to take care of the more dirty work of selling—” She waved her hand in a circular motion.
“You don’t do the selling?” Leonard’s brow wrinkled.
“Not typically. But it’s not often I need his services. It’s more a way to cover my tracks so no one knows of my little . . . habit.”
Leonard rolled his eyes. “Go on.”
“Yes,” she said, looking up as she decided where to pick up on her story. Then she nodded as she brought her gaze back down. “Well, I staked out his usual spots, but he was nowhere to be seen. I left a note with a mutual friend, and he assured me that he would deliver it for me. And if he did, then I have a meeting in less than one hour. I think you can understand where you come into this.”
He shook his head. “Is this the same location where you were going to have me deliver a parcel?”
“No.”
Strange. Her reasons for having him assist her seemed to change like the ever-shifting wind. It was impossible to guess what she needed from him at any given time.
Finally, he relented. “Is it a reputable part of town?”
She held a hand in the air as if weighing her choice of answer. “Define reputable.”
“Is itsafe?”
“It will be, with me there.”
“And you want me to go down there with you and speak with this middleman.”
