Finally, Hooke made an exaggerated hissing noise, muttered angrily, and slunk away.
Jason checked his timepiece—they still had nearly an hour—and looked again to the door.
Well.
Drummond Hooke was controlling and took advantage of Miss Tinker’s talent, but this was entrapment. He wasn’t simply insecure and entitled, he was desperate. And cruel.
Even so, she’d not minced words about his chances. Good for her. She could have feathered him with vague denials or flirted just enough to put him off; instead, she’d called his bluff, bold and unafraid. And so proud. Jason had been transfixed.
Again: good for her.
And good for Jason. Because if she hadn’t needed incentive to help him before, she surely needed it now.
He wondered if she would demonstrate that same boldness and lack of fear with him.
Could she view his work as noble and patriotic? Could she view their collaboration as (dare he say) amicable?
Was there any chance that she would... enjoy it? Enjoyhim?
Likely—no. Restlessness overtook him, and Jason flicked his coin into the air. It landed in his gloved hand with a heavypat. He flicked it again.
Typically, women did enjoy Jason Beckett, and the feeling was so very mutual. His job in the Foreign Office occasioned him to encounter beautiful women around the world; it was one of his favorite parts of thejob. It was one of the many reasons he hated to leave his post; Syon Hall meant isolation and stagnation.
Jason loved all women generally and quite a few women personally, and it had been a very long time since he’d encountered a woman who was not a... a... certainty.Flick.
So far, Jason knew far more about what Isobel Tinker didn’t want than what she did. The list was long. And he was at the top. Well, perhaps Drummond Hooke was at the top. But likely he was a close second.
Meanwhile, he felt confounded by her. He was drawn in by her resistance and prickliness and guarded history. It needled him. It should have increased his restlessness and impatience.Flick.Instead, he wasintrigued.
Dropping deeper into the shadows, he checked her shop again. If she was peeking out of windows, he couldn’t see it.
Fine.Flick.
He would wait.
He would be needled and restless. He would be twitchy andspeculateabout Miss Isobel Tinker. There were worse things.
And anyway, the point of their collaboration was not hisregardfor Miss Isobel Tinker, nor her regard for him. It was about Reggie, and the mission, and putting off Syon Hall as long as possible.
Chapter Four
Isobel scrawled the wordAlleyon a scrap of parchment and tacked it beneath the knob of her door. Northumberland would understand.
How ambitious she’d been to believe the public street would be an acceptable place to meet him at ten o’clock. She’d come to think of Lumley Street as a safe haven, secure and comfortable, a place she could do as she wished, even after dark. All corners of her new life had felt so very haven-like that she’d forgotten she did not have the freedom to be reckless or imprudent or to meet strange men. How thorough of Mr. Hooke to remind her of all that was at stake.
The sun had only just set when Drummond Hooke had delivered her home and made his ultimatum. She prayed no neighbors had seen. The fact thatNorthumberlandhad seen her was an outrage for which she was still trying to find the correct words. Inappropriate, for one. Intrusive, for another. Interesting, for a—No. No,notinteresting.Unacceptable.
“You’re late,” she said ten minutes later. These words took no effort. He emerged from the alley gloom as she waited on her back stoop, her emerald cloak pulled tight.
“Would you believe,” he asked lightly, “I’ve been standing just out of view, watching you?”
Isobel felt an annoying tingle in her tailbone. Cursed stone step, cold even in August. She shoved up. “Iwouldbelieve you’ve been watching, but out of view? Your boast is misplaced. An hour ago, I saw you clearly lurking about.”
He stepped closer, making no response. Just like that, she could see his face. Her first thought was that she had not misremembered. He was—
Well, he was far too much for her already complicated life. A handsome man with a direct, interested gaze and some pressing business that could only be discussed in dark alleys? Too much. The very last complication she needed at the moment. Or ever.
She clipped down the steps. “What were you thinking, turning up in my street when I was... was meeting with my employer?”
