Isobel opened her mouth to challenge this preposterous misinformation. A duke, new or otherwise, lurking in her alley? Highly unlikely. But something made her stop short of saying the words. There was no time for preposterous misinformation or challenges. There was only Drummond Hooke,due any minute.
“I’m forced to ask you to leave, sir,” she said. “And also, you really must cease your lurking.”
“My lurking—”
“The alley, the window, the businesses up and down Lumley Street? Today of all days, to be sure. Although I prefer a neighborhood devoid of lurkers on any day. So if you could simply...”
She walked her fingers through the air, the gesture of something small and invasive skittering away.
“Wait, but I—” he began.
“You’re mistaken if you think I haven’t noticed. You’re also mistaken to claim business with Everland Travel. And if you try to pass yourself off as a duke again, I really will call the constable. The Duke of Northumberland, as anyone knows, is a national hero.Andhe’s mourning the loss of his brother, the previous duke. May God rest him. Let us show respect for families who suffer such great loss. If we do nothing else.”
The man tried to interrupt, but Isobel pressed on. It was all coming back to her now—how to manage imposing men who exuded playful charm. You called them out and sent them on their way. You kept your distance.
She made a twirling gesture with her parasol. “You’re handsome and dashing—I’ll concede that—but I’ve not the time nor patience for lurkers or liars, no matter how they appear. In less than an hour, I’m convening a very important meeting inside the shop. There can be no interruptions or irregularities. Now.” Deep breath. “Please, sir. Be gone.”
She hooked the handle of the parasol over her arm, brushed her hands together, and began to stride away.
“Miss Tinker, I presume?”
Isobel faltered. She turned back. “I beg your pardon?”
“You are Miss Isobel Tinker?”
Many people know my name, she reminded herself.I’ve sold holidays to half the heiresses in London.
She stared at him, not confirming or denying.
“I thought you’d be older,” he said. “Considerably older. You’re not yet thirty. I’d put money on it.”
“What business is it of yours, my age?” She was seven and twenty as of last week.
“I was led to believe you were a cynical, gray-headed matron, running this shop behind spectacles and a stack of dusty travel books.”
A vision of Isobel’s future flashed before her eyes, and she wasn’t certain she liked it.
He went on. “Andyou’re shorter.”
“Led to expect by whom?”
“The Foreign Office.” He stepped up and gestured to Lumley Street with an open arm. “After you.”
Isobel’s feet moved of their own accord, walking toward the sunlight. “What foreign office?”
“The one that serves the interest of His Majesty King George outside our United Kingdom.”
“You’re lying.”
“The governmental office wherenational heroesmill about, doing their duty. For Crown and Country.”
Isobel’s brain began to spin. On leaden feet, she walked into Lumley Street. She blinked. She took a step toward her shop. And another.
“I’m sorry our first encounter was in the alley,” he said. “I’m not a thief, I promise you. I was doing a bit of reconnaissance, although very poorly, I’m afraid. I cannot account for the debacle of this introduction.”
“This is not an introduction.”
“I was being obtuse, and there’s no excuse, although I do have one.” He flashed her a heartbreakingly handsome look and Isobel turned away. She felt apinginside her chest like a reverberating chime.
