In truth, she’d hardly begun. He had the sort of arresting face that deserved prolonged attention, and she hadn’t had even a moment to consider the rest of him.
The eyebrow twitched up a notch. “Carry on, then.”
His voice was pleasant, deep and smooth, if a touch frigid, and Sophia was aware of a low thrum of pleasure in her bellywhen he spoke.
“I’ve got all evening to devote myself to you,” he added, removing his hat and tossing it onto the seat beside him as if he were settling in for a long,tedious ordeal.
“I’m flattered, my lord. What shall we do first?Macbethis on at Drury Lane. Do you enjoy plays with villainesses, Lord Gray?” Sophia asked, stifling a laugh at his expression. No doubt the Ghost of Bow Street wasn’t accustomed to such pert replies, particularly from a lady who was undeniably in his custody, and less thanhalf his size.
“I’d rather see them on the stage than the streets. Does that answer your question,Miss Monmouth?”
Her own expression must have been priceless just then, because his stern lips gave a subtle twitch. It was a pitiful attempt at a smile, but even that little twitch transformed his face.
Sophia blinked at him, her gaze lingering on that little quirk at one corner of his mouth. On second thought, it might be best if Lord Gray kept his charming little quirks and twitches to himself. He wasn’t her friend, and it would be a great inconvenience if she became intrigued by him.
Sophia settled back against her seat as if making herself comfortable, even as she assessed her situation out of the corner of her eye. The carriage door on the right wouldn’t do for an escape. He was too close to it, his muscular body between it and her,but the other—
“I beg your pardon, but if you don’t mind, Miss Monmouth.” Lord Gray jerked his chin at her, a tinge of red creeping intohis cheekbones.
Sophia stared at him, puzzled. Was heblushing? Why would he—
“Here.” He fished around in his pocket and, to Sophia’s shock, pulled out her fichu and handed it to her with a bow of his head that could only be described as courtly.
Oh.Her bodice. She’d forgotten all about it. The entire time she’d been tweaking him and congratulating herself on her cleverness, her breasts had been no more than two stitches away from bursting from her seams. “I…thank you. I beg your pardon.”
Sophia wrapped the fichu around her neck and stuffed it into the neckline of her dress while Lord Gray looked out the window, at his hat, down at his hands—anywhere but at herexposed bosom.
She took her time patting the linen into place even as her gaze wandered back to the carriage doors. No, the one on the right was out of the question, but she might be able to manage the other. If she was quick enough, and could take him by surprise—
“I wouldn’t attempt it if I were you, Miss Monmouth. You won’t make it three steps down Newgate Street before I’ll catch you.” He didn’t move, but he’d tensed like a coiled spring ready to explode into action. “You might also wish to consider I’ve just witnessed you commit a crime, and we’re less than a block from Newgate Prison.”
Sophia stiffened at the veiled threat. If she found herself locked into a cell at Newgate, she’d likely never come back out again. People like her never did, whether they were guilty or not. One needn’t look any further than Jeremy’s predicament forproof of that.
There was also the minor inconvenience that she was, in fact, guilty.
Sophia eyed Lord Gray, her brain spinning with a confusing mix of half-truths and outright lies. She wasn’t good at talking her way out of messes. That was why she took such care never to get caught. Her talents lay more in the physical realm: scampering, scurrying, climbing—that sort of thing. But now here she was, at the mercy of Lord Gray, the cursed Ghost of Bow Street. He wasn’t going to let her go until he got what he wanted from her.
Perhapsnot even then.
She huffed, and forced herself to settleinto her seat.
Lord Gray knew a surrender when he saw one. “Wise of you. Let’s begin with something simple, shall we? You’re a…student at the Clifford School?”
“Yes.” He already knew this, so it cost Sophia nothing to tellhim the truth.
“Ah. Very good, Miss Monmouth. Progress already.” His lips quirked in that ghost of a smile again. “Now, this is the second time I’ve witnessed you harassing Mr. Sharpe. What is it youwant with him?”
A fair question—a predictable one, even—yet not one Sophia was keen to answer. Again, it was more than likely he already knew what she was about, but any acknowledgment of it could be brought up in court as evidence against her.
But how to avoid it? She bit her lip as she tried to think of what Georgiana might do in a similar situation. Georgiana was an expert at argument, unmatched at wriggling her way free of a verbal attack, like that time she’d left the Society’s copy of Mrs. Radcliffe’sThe Castles of Athlin and Dunbayneoutdoors, and it had been destroyed by the rain. Every time Sophia had demanded an explanation as to its whereabouts, Georgiana had outmaneuvered her by…
By answering every question with another question.
Yes, of course! Why, it wasjust the thing.
“Miss Monmouth? You haven’t answered my question.” Lord Gray’s hard gaze flicked to her mouth, and all at once Sophia realized her lips had curved in a delighted smile.
Well, that wouldn’t do. Smirking would only make her look guilty.
