Until this man—a lord—had muscled and squirmed his way into this cab with her.
Now her fun would have to wait until she’d done something about him.
For here was Brighton, returned like a bad eel pie, in the form of one determined, massive, entitled lord.
She saw what he was trying to do—use his lordly power to bully her. So many lords were bullies, like the right was bred into them.
Before he’d tried that tack, she might’ve felt a little sympathy for his plight and perhaps would’ve been inclined to accept payment for his pa’s ring. For the fact was that bloody ring was proving impossible to sell.
None of the pawnbrokers in the East End would touch it. Too fine, they all said. And none of the jewelers in the West End would deal with her once she opened her mouth and they heard the Cockney pouring out. A Cockney chit shouldn’t be holding a ring like that. Must be stolen, they all thought. And there was the bottom of it—no one was willing to stick their neck out for a ring belonging to a nob. A real conundrum, this ring had proven itself.
Put another way, this wastrel lord crowding her cab bench with his broad shoulders and thick thighs and too handsome face might’ve been the answer to her prayers.
Then he’d gone and tried to bully her.
And the thing was this: these last nine years, no one had bullied Tilly Birdwell.
And she’d liked it that way.
So, she wasn’t going to make it easy on him.
“It’s the ring of an earl, you say?” she asked, all breezy like. That way, he wouldn’t see her coming.
He exhaled in a great rush. “His signet, yes.”
Didn’t this too-handsome lord just brim with impatience?
Well, Tilly wouldn’t be hurried. “So, it’s a noble ring.”
He searched her eyes, clearly trying to parse where she was going with this. “Aye.”
“And how did you lose it again?” Toying with a lord was fun, wasn’t it? “The first time, that is.”
He hesitated, his eyes gone suspicious. “In a card game.”
“You lost it ignobly, then?”
“If you want to put it that way.”
Now, now, wasn’t that a sore spot she’d touched?
She gave a little one-shouldered shrug that brushed along his arm. “Then there’s one way you’ll be getting the ring back.”
The scowl trenched across his forehead said he didn’t much trust either her words or the cheery way she’d spoken them. “And how’s that?”
She spread her hands wide, like she’d seen magicians on the street do when they revealed their final trick. “You’ll have to earn it…” Oh, how she liked making him wait for her next word… “Nobly.”
That frown line would become permanent if he wasn’t careful. “Pardon?”
Her smile couldn’t contain itself. “If you do three noble deeds, I’ll hand your pa’s fancy ring over.”
His mouth opened, then closed.
Her offer had clearly knocked him speechless.
“Three noble deeds, milord,” she repeated in case she hadn’t already made herself perfectly clear.
In the general sense, lords had trouble absorbing what they didn’t want to hear.
