She straightened up from the wall. “Thank you.” Her voice was low, cultured, and definitely at odds with their surroundings. “I appreciate your help. Good evening.”
She moved to pass him. He shifted to block her path.
“What are you doing in this part of London at this hour?”
Her chin lifted. He still could not see her face beneath the hood, but he felt the weight of her gaze. “That is none of your concern, sir.”
“You are a lady.” It was not a question. He could hear it in her accent, see it in the quality of her cloak, sense it in the way she held herself.
“And you are observant.” She stepped to the right. He mirrored her movement. “Please move aside.”
“Not until you explain why a lady of breeding is wandering alone through streets that would make a sailor think twice.”
“Perhaps I enjoy the exercise.”
“At four o’clock in the morning?”
“The fresh air is bracing.”
“The fresh air smells of fish guts and despair.”
A sound escaped her. It might have been a laugh. “You aren’t wrong.” She paused. “I could ask you the same question, you know. What brings a gentleman to this corner of London at this hour?”
“Who said I was a gentleman?”
“Your coat says it. Your boots say it. The way you hold yourself says it.” She tilted her head. “You move like a man accustomed to giving orders and having them obeyed. That speaks of rank. Andyet here you are, in the same streets that would make a sailor think twice.”
Edward found himself caught between annoyance and something else. Something that felt almost like curiosity. “I had business nearby.”
“As did I.” She spread her hands. “There. We are both mysterious figures with unexplained purposes. Honor satisfied. Now, if you will excuse me.”
She stepped left. He followed. They stood closer now, close enough that he caught a hint of her scent beneath the coal smoke and damp. Something floral, delicate, out of place.
“You are infuriating,” he said.
“So I’ve been told.”
He grew suddenly aware of how near they stood. Of the way her breath misted in the cold air between them. Of the curve of her lips, just visible beneath the shadow of her hood. Something stirred in his chest, unfamiliar and unwelcome.
He stepped back. “Let me walk you home.”
“No.”
“Then allow me to call you a hackney.”
“I can find my own transportation.”
“You were also perfectly capable of being cornered by six men in an alley.”
“Five.” Her voice sharpened. “There were five. And I had the situation under control.”
“Of course you did.” He exhaled through his nose. “Fine. Leave. But I will watch until you are safely away. Do not test me on this.”
“I can handle myself.”
“I don’t doubt it. Go.”
She held his gaze for a long moment. Then she turned and walked away, her cloak swirling around her ankles. He watched her reach the end of the street, watched her flag down a passing hackney, watched her climb inside and disappear into the pre-dawn gray.
