“I noticed the windows are very clean,” he said gravely. Finally. And after a long moment during which no one said a thing.
He hadn’t yet blinked.
“La la la la,” he added. As solemnly as one might deliver a speech in parliament.
Her usual responses to things were in a snarl, as bound tightly together as Margaret Gardner’s shy, folded hands. She was suddenly acutely aware of how her shift felt against her skin.Allof her senses, in fact, were suddenly, painfully alert. As if they’d finally found something truly worthy of their attention and had been lying down on the job for the first two decades of her life.
“Is Lady Derring indisposed then?” he said gently. As though he was both resigned to her being witless and quite accustomed to being gawked at. “Shall I speak with you instead?”
“I am Lady Derring.” Her voice was even, if thready.
Instantly a cool, hard screen of a sort moved over his expression.
She could see at once that he was making an internal adjustment, a reassessment of some sort, and it wasn’t a flattering one.
It occurred to her all at once that she would not want to play cards with this man.
He bowed, gracefully as any courtier.
“Well, then. A pleasure to meet you, Lady Derring. I am Captain Tristan Hardy.”
The name was a bit of a surprise. But it fit him, all of it. Tristan, with its air of implied heroism and tragedy, and Hardy, because anything with “hard” in it would suit. As Dot had said, not a spare anything on the man. One got the sense bullets would bounce right off.
Thecaptainpart probably explained that air of implacable, insufferable authority. As though he moved through the world with ease in part because he knew destiny wouldn’t dare countermand his orders.
“What brings you back to The Grand Palace on the Thames, Captain Hardy?”
His small, intimate smile removed the bones from her knees.
“So you do remember me, Lady Derring.”
She ignored the smile and remembered that her blood was blue, even if keys jingled at her hips now.
“My maid, Dorothy, informs me that you are seeking a room to let, Captain Hardy. Would you care to have a seat to discuss it?” She gestured at the settee.
“There’s to be a discussion? I thought these sorts of things were usually dispensed with a yes or a no.”
He said it almost lightly. But he sat down. Immediately his presence elevated the settee, with its small burn carefully patched and the nick in one of its legs, to something like a throne.
“We like to be certain all of our treasured guests are comfortable here and that new guests are a proper fit and willing to abide by the rules, so we ask a few questions.”
“Treasured, are they?” he said smoothly. “I’ve long aspired to be treasured.”
“All guests who pay their bills, follow the rules, and do not disrupt the other guests are indeed treasured.”
He regarded her with those eyes which were all that was polite and yet she couldn’t shake the sensation that he could see right through her dress to her stays.
“There are rules?” he said with idle interest.
“Indeed. It’s hardly anarchy here at The Grand Palace on the Thames.”
“And how much does it cost to be treasured?”
“Twelve pounds per week.”
She decided this was his rate, no matter whether he took a small or a large room. The two extra pounds were a surcharge for arrogance.
“And what benefits do your guests receive in exchange for their princely twelve pounds?”
