“Hello, Mrs. Harper,” Mr. Dorian said with a grin, as he leaned against a brick wall just by the entrance of the gallery. “Isn’t this a nice surprise.”
Surprise my foot.
“What are you doing here?” I hissed, though I already knew the answer.
As the infernal man pushed away from the wall and walked towards me, I reluctantly acknowledged that, in comparison to Mr. Henshaw, his smile appeared refreshingly genuine. However, that did not dispel my annoyance.
I lifted my chin, still feeling rather bold from my exchange with Mr. Henshaw. “I don’t need you chasing me around like a nursemaid. You should have made yourself known.”
He had the audacity to look surprised. “You think I’ve been following you?”
I frowned at his feigned incredulousness. Perhaps I hadgiven him too much credit, thinking him genuine. “Then what, pray, are you doing here?”
“I was visiting a friend across the way and happened to see you entering this building. So I decided to wait.” Then he looked past me and squinted at the gallery’s sign. “Are you purchasing some art?”
I ignored this. “Who were you visiting?”
He gave me an indulgent smile. “Answer my question first, and I’ll tell you.”
I held his gaze as I pretended to consider the offer, and it was then that I noticed the slight strain in his face. The man may be acting friendly, but if I had to guess, he was actually very cross with me and only kept up appearances because we were in public.
I let out a short sigh. “The gallery owner was a friend of Charles Pearson’s, and I came to see if he knew anything about his business.”
Mr. Dorian nodded. “And were you successful?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Tell me what you are doing here first.”
He huffed a laugh. “I was meeting Mrs. Langham.”
I did my best to keep my expression neutral, even at the inconvenient flare of jealousy in my chest. “Oh?” I asked, managing to sound bored.
“She had some information for me. About the case.”
Without thinking, I stepped closer, unable to hide my interest. “Really? What did she say?”
But Mr. Dorian clicked his tongue. “You know the rules. What did this gallery owner know?”
I cast a wary glance behind me, thinking of that nosy clerk. “Perhaps we should discuss this somewhere more private.”
“Come,” he said as he offered me his arm. “I know just the place.”
I hesitated at first, then took it before the moment could turn awkward.
Just as I feared, being this close to Mr. Dorian took me back to Corfu. To the last time he had touched me. And all I could remember was how safe I had felt in his arms, though I had been on the brink of death. And the anguish in his voice as I had slipped from consciousness.
No. Not yet.
“Are you all right?” He was giving me a look of concern.
I must have shivered involuntarily at the memory. “Yes. Of course,” I lied. “Let’s go.”
He watched me for another moment, then led me down the street. “It’s around the corner. A tearoom I like.”
I couldn’t help smiling. “Do you make it a habit of visiting every tearoom in London?”
He shot me a mock frown. “Certainly not. Only the good ones. Why do you look so amused?”
“It’s just very … quaint,” I said. “I never would have thought a man like you would be so found of tearooms.”
