“True.” He tucked a hand beneath his chin. “But you not having a lady’s companion is making my choices of acceptable activities rather small.”
“A curricle ride in late September sounds quite lovely, actually,” she said, smiling—and sniffing. Goodness, crying really was horrid. No wonder she did not do it often. “I shall wear my newest muff for the occasion.”
“And there will be nothing unsavory in said muff?” His eyes flicked to the table by the door where she had dispensed her knife.
“Not even a little one?” she asked, lifting her shoulders, holding her fingers in the air a mere breadth apart.
“You will have me, so why would you need one?”
“Don’t make me answer that. It would be uncomfortable for us both.”
He scoffed, though he smiled through it. “I believe I proved myself capable the other night. And I doubt anyone would approach you with nefarious intent during a curricle ride with a gentleman.”
“Unlikely, but not impossible.”
“No knife,” he reiterated, his chin dipped as he watched her.
She sighed. “Very well. If you insist.”
“Now, I need to leave. I will slip out the back door so as to do my best to protect your reputation.”
“I do not have one to protect.”
His eyes simmered as he watched her. “I beg to differ.”
The fact that he cared was enough to steal the response that sprang to her tongue. Goodness, she was about to lean forward and kiss him again. Instead, she found her voice. “Are you going to be the unbearable one now? I don’t know how I feel about this switch in roles.”
He lifted her hand to his lips, grinning at her, then placed a soft kiss to her knuckles. “Until tomorrow.”
She watched as he stood, that discomforting warmth spreading over her cheeks again. His confident stride as he walked to the hall made her look forward to tomorrow’s ride with even more anticipation. She didn’t mind a bit of confidence in a man. And Leonard was wearing it like a snug-fitting glove.
Chapter Twenty-Four
There were only six steps this time.
Leonard knocked on the door. He might get turned away, but he had a feeling that once the intention of this meeting was known, he would be allowed entry. Especially since he had sent a letter earlier that morning detailing what he needed to discuss. If Mr. Hind was the sort of man Leonard thought him to be, he would meet with him.
Rain drizzled down on his hat and coat, and when the doorman allowed Leonard in, he handed off his hat and gloves and swiped at the loose beads of moisture on his sleeves.
His boots plodded along the floor, up the stairs, and down the hall to a dark room. And there, in the middle of the space, in all of his pretentiousness—for who sits behind a massive desk in a room otherwise empty—sat Mr. Hind.
“Mr. Stanton. Welcome.” He held a hand out. “Please, take a seat.”
“I will stand, thank you.”
Mr. Hind’s false smile froze on his face for a moment. “Very well. You do as you see fit.”
“Oh, I plan to.”
Mr. Hind pulled his brows down. “That sounds rather ominous, Mr. Stanton. I think you have the details of this meeting a little off.”
“No.” Leonard made a show of glancing about the room, as if he really had better places to be. “I think you misunderstand things.”
His brows hitched. “Is that so? Please, enlighten me.”
“I plan to court Miss Honora Gillingham in the coming weeks.”
“Then I feel it incumbent upon myself to let you know of her character.”
