Releasing a smidgen of a sigh, Gertrude forced all thoughts of what would only be unrequited love aside right as Officer Huntington gave a telling tap on his gun.
“Forgive me if I don’t simply release Miss Cadwalader into your company, Mr. Sinclair, because, forgive me again, but I highly doubt you’re related to the Mrs. Sinclair who caught this woman stealing. You’re more likely one of Miss Cadwalader’s associates, presenting yourself as a carnival hawker if I were to hazard a guess, unless you’re truly a carnival hawker, which goes far in proving my theory you’re another confidence artist.”
Harrison narrowed his eyes on the officer. “Where in the world did you get the idea I’m a carnival hawker?”
“No self-respecting gentleman I know would be caught dead in pink, let alone wear pants like that. But I’ve seen carnival hawkers in my day wearing flashy items to drum up business.”
“I originally thought my jacket was orange, and I’ll have you know, I bought these clothes over in Paris a few months back. Granted, they were highly discounted, but the salesman told me this look was still slightly in style.”
Officer Huntington’s brows drew together. “If I thought that was the truth, I’d say you were swindled, but since I don’t, do know that telling me you traveled to Paris isn’t exactly enough evidence to convince me you’re Mr. Sinclair.”
Harrison threw up his hands in clear frustration and walked Gertrude’s way. He reached her side before she could blink, and then she found herself pulled out of the chair and straight into his strong arms.
Wonderful warmth spread through her as her knees went a little weak, a direct result of having a gentleman come to her rescue for the very first time in her life, if she discounted the time Harrison had swept her up into his arms because she hadn’t truly been a damsel in distress at that particular moment, simply winded from a tightly laced corset.
Burrowing her nose into the fabric of his shirt, she breathed in a scent that reminded her of lime mixed with the sea. Releasing a breath, along with a good deal of the tension she’d been carrying, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of safety she’d not felt in a very, very long time.
When unexpected tears stung her eyes, she drew in a shaky breath, but when she tried to step away from Harrison, he tightened his grip on her and bent his head.
“Are you all right?” he whispered in her ear, the feel of his breath caressing her cheek causing her knees to go weaker than ever.
“I’m fine,” she managed to whisper back, her words muffled because her face was still pressed into the hardness of his chest. “Especially now when it doesn’t seem as if you’re furious with me.”
What sounded exactly like a growl was his first response and then he eased her away from him and looked at her. “Why would I be furious with you?”
“Because your mother caught me with items I think might belong to Margaret.”
Harrison’s lips curved into a smile. “Which is troubling to be sure, but I know there’s a completely reasonable explanation as to what you were doing with those items, and not an explanation that ends with you admitting you’re a thief.”
“How do you know that?”
For what seemed like an eternity, Harrison simply looked into her eyes, the kindness resting in his unusual blue eyes drawing her closer. Another sigh escaped her lips, and then his gaze drifted to those lips, and everything faded away.
She was no longer standing in the middle of an interrogation room, but standing on the deck of one of his ships, feeling the breeze wash over her and anticipating what it was going to feel like when she received her very first kiss, given to her by the man she now knew...
A loud clearing of a throat had her stepping away from Harrison even as he blinked, blinked again, then turned his attention to Officer Huntington once more, temper flashing through his eyes again.
“I don’t mean to interrupt what looked like a most touching moment, but now is hardly the time and place for gestures of a romantic nature,” Officer Huntington said. He nodded to the door then looked back at Harrison. “Now then, if you’d be so kind as to wait outside until I’m done questioning Miss Cadwalader, I will allow you to say a proper good-bye before I escort her off to a cell because I’m not completely heartless.”
Harrison reached out, drew Gertrude closer, then settled his hand at the small of her back, almost as if he’d known her knees were trembling over the very idea she might soon be carted off to a cell.
“I’m not waiting outside, nor is there any reason for you to hold Miss Cadwalader, let alone cart her off to jail. My mother, Mrs. Sinclair, has sent me here with a letter to have all charges dropped against Miss Cadwalder, because my mother has come to the conclusion she’s made a horrible mistake.”
Officer Huntington arched a thick brow Harrison’s way. “Not that I believe you, but how did Mrs. Sinclair arrive at that decision?”
“I explained to her that Mrs. Davenport, Gertrude’s employer, has a peculiar habit of picking up items that don’t belong to her. She’s a little—” Harrison tapped a finger against his forehead—“touched in the head if you get my meaning, that condition brought about because of her age. She’s quite elderly.”
“Not so elderly she apparently wasn’t capable of pulling off a heist of a considerable amount of jewelry.”
“She’s wily, I’ll give you that.”
Shaking his head, Officer Huntington pointed toward the door. “And I’ll give you credit for having a glib tongue, but I don’t believe your story.”
As Harrison opened his mouth to obviously argue that point, the door opened with a resounding creak, and another gentleman entered the room.
“Agent McParland!” Gertrude exclaimed, smiling at the Pinkerton detective she’d met a few months before, and one who’d helped save her, Harrison, Asher, and Permilia from a madman intent on a killing spree. “Good heavens, it’s wonderful to see you. Harrison and I are in desperate need of your assistance again.”
To Gertrude’s confusion, Agent McParland did not return her smile. Instead, he inclined his head to Officer Huntington. “What seems to be the problem?”
