His eyes were open but his gaze was hard as he stared at the counterfeit canopic jars. When his chin dropped, she thought that might have been a nod of approval. Telling her to go with Mr. Sinter? Nay, encouraging her to salvage her reputation.
Taking a deep breath, Barbara placed her hand on the older man’s arm. “Thank you,” she murmured.
As he swept her into Mr. Nutt’s drawing room, to hear about his acquisition of the valuable false door stele, Barbara didn’t look back at Kenneth.
And she regretted it all night.
Chapter Five
There was an unexpected lightness in Kenneth’s steps as he jogged up the steps to the Fokette townhouse, satchel at his side—and when he realized that, he was surprised.
Oh, he recognized the signs; the excitement to see a woman, the urge to smile ridiculously…it wasn’t the first time he’d found himself truly enjoying time spent with a woman.
But itwasthe first time he’d felt this way without having had bedded her first.
There was something special about Miss Barbara Fokette, and he wasn’t certain— nay, that wasn’t true. Heknewshe was brilliant and funny and could match his passion. Heknewshe was special and interesting and made him want to bring her joy. Not justpleasure, but he wanted to bring her that too. She was a remarkable young lady, and he found himself thinking about her at least once a minute during his waking hours.
Most inconveniently.
Part of him, the part of him which had spent a decade in service to His Majesty, was bemused at his enthusiasm. The rest of him—and that included his cock, which kept inviting itself into the conversation unexpectedly—was merely amused.
And he couldn’t seem to stay away.
That kiss last night had been…
He stopped with one hand raised to knock on the door and instead reached for his hat, pulling it off and running his hand through his hair. Smoothing it down. Readying himself to impress.Fook.
That kiss…
There were a few things Kennethknewhe was good at. He was a passable shot, tolerably good at infiltration, and fookingbrilliantwhen it came to charming a mark. Over the years that had included seducing more than one woman for King and country. It waswhat he did.
But not once had he ever,everexperienced a kiss like he’d shared with Barbara last night.
Not once.
Even now, he was appalled by how close he’d come to losing control. How close he’d come to scooping her breasts out from that modest gown she’d worn and tasting them. How close he’d come to pressing her up against one of those display cases and touching her until she screamed in pleasure.
Just the memory of her lips, just thethoughtof how her warm cunny would have felt…had him hard again.
He hadn’t sat through Pembrooke’s lecture—he couldn’t trust himself. He’d gone back to his flat and had a drink. Then he’d had two more, to keep the first one company. And the entire time, he’d berated himself.
Not for losing control, but for keeping it.
If he’d fooked Barbara last night—or at the very least, brought her to pleasure—he could have fulfilled the terms of the wager. Truly made it impossible for Sinter to ignore. Brought down a ruckus upon her.
Not that heneededto be declared London’s best rake or beat Remington Ives.
But seducing her would have meant Standish’s distraction would be complete, and the Home Office could investigate him without concern.
And any time he thought about that, he got angry at himself, and wasn’t sure why.
Nay, that wasn’t true.
Heknewwhy.
Now he knew Miss Barbara Fokette, he didn’twantto ruin her. He very much wanted to hear her laugh, attend her historical lectures, bring her to pleasure, see the wonder and light in her expression, taste her skin and sink into her joy…but he didn’t want to ruin her.
So why was he standing here on her front step like a lovesick suitor?
