“No. I will not allow it.”
She crossed her arms. “It is not for you to allow or not, Ives.”
“You are not thinking clearly. You will see that in a day or so, but in the meantime you must not spend one more hour under this roof.”
Her eyes narrowed on him. “Do you think I will become corrupted by Mrs. Lavender?”
“No, of course not. You would not— She would not—”
“She would not? You know her that well, to say she would not?”
Damnation.
She grinned.
He did not like being the source of her amusement. He took a deep breath. “When I was younger, much younger—”
“You do not have to explain tome. I expect men need to practice a bit before they pursue opera singers.”
That was a low blow. He would not engage in this ridiculous argument any longer. “You will come with me now, Padua. We will find you a chamber in a respectable house.”
“A family’s house, you mean. Or a spinster’s. It will still be a chamber up with the servants, I suspect. I prefer this one. I would not like the women in those other houses watching me, judging me. It would be like being at Mrs. Ludlow’s again.”
She turned and pulled a dress out of her valise, to emphasize her decision. “If you are too scandalizedby my address, our friendship can end. Or, if you prefer it not, we can meet sometimes in the park.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “Of course, you can come up those stairs out there, as surely as I can go down them, if you like.”
He had been ready to drag her out, but that invitation took the wind out of his resolve. He hardened at once, like the slave to pleasure he had become. The possibilities lured him. She was correct, he could come up those stairs, unseen. The woman of the house would hardly object if she knew, considering the trade down below. Should anyone else become aware, they lived under a roof where discretion ruled. Only putting Padua in her own home would be better, and she had rejected that even before he offered it.
She had found the perfect solution, should they want to continue the affair. He certainly did, even if it had become complicated and even dangerous.
Temptation worked its wiles on him. His body would tolerate only one choice. He wavered badly.
She turned and waited, lips parted, ready to take him into her arms right now. One step, that was all. One smile—
“Absolutely not, Padua. You may choose to live above a brothel, but I will not be joining you here.” He turned away. “Please come out on these stairs, where the air is fresh. I have something to ask you. To tell you.”
His body gave him hell as he walked out that door. He waited on the little wooden terrace, wondering if she would follow. Eventually she did.
“Besides news of this property, did Notley speak of anything else?” he asked.
“If you mean the charge of sedition, yes.” She speared him with a direct glare. “You knew at Merrywood, didn’t you?”
“I did. It was in the letter I received.”
He waited for her to upbraid him for not sharing that. Instead she sighed heavily. “A few days ago, I would have insisted that was so wrong as to be comical,” she said. “Now I do not have confidence that I know him at all.”
“They may not have much, or anything useful. I will try to find out.”
“It does not take much to spin a good story.”
They were back to her concerns that the prosecutor would be more aggressive than honest. Ives wished he could reassure her, but he could not.
She moved to him, and stretched up to kiss him. “Not only a criminal, but a whoremonger and perhaps a man involved in a seditious plot. You became entangled with the daughter of a man sure to make the newspapers happy.”
“You are not him.”
“No one will remember that once this becomes the talk of the town. I had a moment of weakness inside, when I tried to tempt you. A desperate, hopeful moment. I think perhaps you should leave us to our own devices, and look for a mistress to entertain you in the future.”
He found it hard to believe she had said that. “No.”
