Page 7 of A Second Chance for Love

The faint smile on his full lips told her he knew exactly why she forgot: because she was flustered. Because of him.

“Did you come back later on and steal from Madam LeMonde’s vault?” he asked her.

“Of course not,” Oona snapped.

He turned to the modiste. “There you have it, Dotty: Miss Parker is not your thief.”

Madam LeMonde made a sound like an enraged goose. “You’re just going to take ‘er word for it?”

“Have no fear, I shall get to the bottom of this,” he assured her, a chill in his voice and a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I dislike thievery on any of my properties. In the meantime, draw up a list of what is missing and I will see that you are reimbursed. After all, I am responsible for the safety of goods kept on my property.”

Madam LeMonde’s impressive bosom was rising and falling faster than ever. “And what about her?”

“Does she still have her position here?” he asked.

LeMonde snorted.

“Well, then it is none of your concern, is it?”

LeMonde’s lips parted, but no words came out.

Justin Taylor fixed his uncomfortably piercing gaze on Oona and said in a silky voice. “I shall see to Miss Parker.”

Three

They said nothing to each other as Justin Taylor led her from the dress shop.

Outside there was a young boy walking a magnificent black horse up and down the mews, steam billowing from the mouths of both horse and boy.

“I’ll hold Brummel,” Mr. Taylor said when the boy stopped in front of them. “Go fetch a hackney and bring it back here. I’ll send a man back to fetch the horse.”

“Aww, guv! I can bring ‘im to yer ken.”

The two males locked eyes and some form of wordless communication passed between them before Taylor nodded and then handed him the reins.

The boy grinned wide enough to split his face. “I’ll ‘av an ‘ack in a twinkle, Mr. Juss.” He turned tail and scampered off, the horse prancing cooperatively beside him.

Oona looked up at him. “An employee of yours?”

He tapped his whip against his boot as he looked down at her, pausing before answering, another annoying habit of his she’d recalled last night. It was a lazy pause, as if he wasn’t quite sure he could be bothered to speak the words. “Never seen him before.”

“And you just gave him your horse?”

He nodded slowly. “Mmm-hmm.”

“But he knew your name.”

“Yes, he knows who I am.” The inference was clear: lots of people knew who he was, and those who did would not steal from him.

He wasn’t frowning or scowling or speaking in a threatening tone, he simply dripped danger. Oona didn’t like her body’s response—what sort of woman found danger . . . arousing? Of course her body had always reacted oddly to this man, although it seemed she had even a more severe case of whatever it was now than she’d had then.

She swallowed and looked up; yes, he was still staring. Her mouth opened and words came out, “Brummel is an unusual name for a horse.”

“Is it?” he asked with a smirk.

Oona knew that was all he would say unless she asked. “Why would you name your horse after Mr. Beau Brummel?”

She saw a gleam of humor in his eyes. “He’s vain and impeccably turned out, it seemed to fit.”