“I told you I had business in town this morning.”
“But you took off in acab,” he repeated loudly, “with only a young boy”—he waved toward Andrew—“to look after you.” He looked over her shoulder at Andrew. “No offense intended.”
“None taken, m’lord.”
Edward fixed his stare on Fiona. “Do you know what could have happened to you?”
His outburst was a complete overreaction and one more indication that the duke was not at all like Ed, the man she’d known. “It was a hackney cab, not a random stranger.”
He crossed his arms, staring her down as though she were an errant child. “I have carriages at your disposal.”
She smirked in a way she knew would annoy him. “I didn’t think you’d want the Wildeforde crest displayed through the working boroughs.” In truth, she didn’t want his help at all, not even his transport. He’d had the right of it yesterday when he’d insisted they keep well away from each other. She didn’t need the discombobulation that came with his presence. There was serious business to be done and she couldn’t accomplish it while she was distracted by the way her insides curled when he was near.
“I haveunmarkedcarriages at your disposal—that one in particular.” He pointed to a carriage that had pulled up across the street from Mr. Duchamp’s office. It was relatively unassuming, for a duke’s equipage. A far cry from the gilded monstrosity they’d ridden in yesterday.
She rolled her eyes. “Of course you do. Well, thank you for your concern, but I’m quite well. Andrew and I have decided to walk. We have plenty of time and it’s good for the constitution.”
“You two are not walking through London alone.”
Damn insufferable despot.Had it been Andrew traveling alone, the duke wouldn’t have batted an eyelid. But because she was a woman…“You’re welcome to join me, if you wish,” she snapped. “Although that makes some mockery of your decision to stay well apart from one another.”
He massaged the spot between his eyebrows as though her very presence was giving him a headache. Which was needling. If either one of them should be giving the other a headache, it was him.
“Let’s go,” he muttered, and held out his elbow for her to grasp.
Damn.Her invitation had not been sincere. Surely, he’d sensed that. “You don’t have anywhere more royal to be? Parliament? The king’s court? In a room being fed roasted pheasant while you lord over all your subjects?”
Behind her, Andrew snorted. Edward pierced him with a withering stare. “Tenants, not subjects, and I have plenty of places where I ought to be. Luckily for you, a gentleman puts a lady’s safety first. Even if that lady is being a bullheaded twit insisting on traipsing around London on foot rather than accepting a perfectly comfortable carriage.”
“Walking is good for the soul,” she said as she stepped around him, ignoring his outstretched arm. It wasn’t untrue. The worst days of her life she’d spent walking alone in the cold, examining her life. It was on that long walk that she’d come to the realization that everyone was in this world alone. That even those who were supposed to look after you could not be counted on. Not really. Not when it mattered.
It was that realization that had driven her to step out of the confining construct men had created for women and drove her to take on a career.
It was that realization that had spurred her through the late nights and failed experiments in order to reach the holy grail—complete independence.
It was that realization that had protected her from the worst sting of Edward’s betrayal all those years ago, because if she hadn’t already known that no one could be counted on, she would have learned that lesson then.
***
The meeting with Tarly & Sons didn’t go any better than her first meeting. The clerk was somewhat more apologetic but still firm in his refusal to admit her. Ninety minutes after that, the situation played out again at Portman Industries.
By that time, Fiona’s feet were hurting from the nonsensical ladies’ walking shoes she was wearing instead of the boots she wore day-to-day at the firm. She forced herself not to look longingly at Edward’s carriage, which still trailed them. She got here under her own steam; she would continue that way. This wasn’t even the toughest of the walks she’d made.
At some point, though, she’d stopped rejecting Edward’s proffered arm. She only had so much energy for argument and that was being spent trying to gain an audience with men she had already scheduled time with.
As the day went on, that first reluctant touch became firmer; she found herself wrapping her fingers tightly around his sleeve and—later—leaning into him, her shoulder against his arm as they walked. She found herself being unexpectedly, unreasonably, braced by his nearness.
As the rejections had gone on, his criticisms had lessened to the point where they walked in complete silence, a choice she was grateful for. Toward the end, he placed his free hand on hers. That support between battles might have brought tears to her eyes, if she let it. If she didn’t need to continue on projecting false optimism in the face of defeat.
As they approached the final stop on the agenda, her heart rate picked up, which was surely a result of all the walking and not at all because she was about to face yet another rejection. She worked to wipe the emotional impact of the day from her expression. She needed to present an image of confidence and capability if she wanted a shot at speaking to the man in charge.
That said, she was fairly sure Edward could see everything she was feeling. He’d always had an uncanny and infuriating ability to do that. As they stood outside the brown-brick building, she swallowed hard.
Edward put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “I could come in with you,” he said.
She knew exactly what he meant:They’d take me seriously.
“No, thank you. That’s not necessary.” She didn’t want to partner with someone who was choosing to work with the duke and not her. His presence could not be more valuable than her efforts. She squared her shoulders as Andrew opened the door for her.
