“Be safe, Miss.”
“I’m sure I will be,” she said with a warm smile, then she turned her face to the outside. Finally, she touched her fingers to Elliott’s forearm, and he escorted her to the phaeton as if she were the queen. He certainly felt like his back was being peppered with angry glares from a legion of soldiers.
He helped her onto the bench, then took the reins. His boy servant, called a tiger, leaped into the vehicle from where he’d been holding the horses’ heads, and they started off at a smart pace. Elliott wanted to get away from her corner of London and more into his own. He believed that would quiet his unusual reaction to Miss Gold.
It worked, a little. As soon as he had the horses under his command and the scenery moving past at a smart rate, his body relaxed, and he began to enjoy the afternoon. Which led him to the one thing he always did when happiness warmed his belly--he started asking questions.
“I’m afraid I don’t know much about your family. Have you always lived in London?”
“We came when I was very young, just the four of us.”
He counted the people he’d met. Father, grandfather, and her. “Your mother as well?”
“Yes. She died a few years ago.”
“I’m so sorry. Do you remember your home country at all? Does your family miss it?”
She had been looking out at the passing street, but now turned to stare at him. “No and yes. Grandfather speaks of it every day. Why all the questions?”
He arched a brow. “I am curious about you. Are you offended?”
“No,” she said slowly. “I just don’t understand why. Given my father’s display…” She rolled her eyes at that. “I doubt you intend seduction. I am a means to an end for you, a way to replace a brooch and thereby get a vote. So why the conversation? It is a beautiful day. I am happy to look at an area of London I so rarely get to see.”
“You think I am only interested in seduction or a vote?”
Her brows rose as if that were obvious. “I am not of your class. What else could there be?”
“Friendship? Conversation?”
“With me?” She might as well have said, “With a zebra?”
He chuckled. “Of course, with you. In truth, I find every person fascinating from the lowest bootblack to the highest-born gentlemen in the land. But you are especially interesting.”
“Why?”
Because she spoke with dignity and very little accent. Because there was absolutely nothing outstanding about her face or body, and yet he couldn’t stop sneaking peeks at her. Because a half dozen rough men treated her like spun glass and blushed when she touched them. “Because you are the one who is here. I have already peppered Tom with questions.” He jerked his head back at his tiger, who stood at attention behind them. “Go ahead, Tom. Tell her.”
“He’s right chatty, miss. Talks to everyone. T’aint cruel or stupid.”
“Isn’t cruel,” Elliott corrected and was pleased to see Tom repeat the proper words in a clear tone.
“Isn’t cruel. And he don’t mind helping us better ourselves.” There was enough emphasis on the letter H that Elliott didn’t correct the rest.
Miss Gold frowned, but eventually, she nodded. “You have a kindred spirit in Mrs. Dove-Lyon. She has found ways to help all her employees improve their lot.”
By trapping unwary men into marriage. He had heard of a few men who had taken missteps in her den only to find themselves caught in a bind they could not escape. And at least one of those unions had ended disastrously. “You sound as if you admire her.”
“I do. She educates her girls. That alone is worthy of respect.”
“You have the reforming spirit, then.”
She smiled. “I am a smart woman. Of course, I wish to reform the world. I want as many opportunities as you.”
“As a man? Or as a peer?”
She shook her head. “As a man, my lord. I know the world is not so open as to allow me to sponsor a resolution or bow before the king. But if I had the opportunities of a man, then I should be content.”
“Because you could openly create jewelry instead of pretend that it is your grandfather’s work?”
