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I should have worn a coat.

She shivered and hurried her step to match Mr. Lewis—ugh, Adam’s!—long stride. He paused suddenly, a frown on his face, and took off his coat. Beatrice looked up at him in shock. Was he hot on this chilly night and actually undressing?

The next moment, he wrapped his coat over her shoulders, and Beatrice froze in surprise. It wasn’t the fact that he’d offered his coat or draped it around her shoulders that surprised her. He was a gentleman, after all. It was the fact that he’d noticed she was cold that got to her.

Beatrice’s father had been busy working all the time, and as the eldest sibling, it was her job to look after everyone at home. She was the one to fuss over everybody, to make sure that everyone was warm and fed and taken care of. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone paid her enough attention to actually listen to what she wanted. And here was this man, giving her attention without her even asking.

He offered his arm as if nothing happened—because to him, probably, nothing had. Struggling for composure, Beatrice sucked in a deep breath, and with it inhaled an earthy scent mixed with light smoke and him.

She took his arm, and her eyes fluttered closed. She didn’t even try to keep them open. She let Adam lead her, be her eyes and her common sense during this strange yet alluring moment.

They turned the corner, and the sounds of drunken singing and loud cursing intensified. Dancing lights poured into the street from the windows of an old wooden building. Beatrice paused before the large oak door, with obvious cracks in it, listening to the horrifying sounds of off-key singing and rude expletives.

“Are you certain this is a well-respected pub?” she asked with a timid voice.

“I never said it was well-respected,” Adam pointed out with a wink. And then it was too late to protest—not that she wanted to—as he opened the door and nudged her inside.

A few things caught Beatrice’s attention at that moment.

First, the pub grew suspiciously quiet, and all eyes turned on her. Second, all those eyes belonged to the male specimen because aside from one bar wench distributing the drinks, there were no patrons of the female variety. And third of all, none of the men in the pub looked even a little respectable. Their long, unkempt facial hair had crumbs and twigs entangled in them, their clothes were dirty and disheveled, and the smell that permeated from every corner of the pub was making Beatrice nauseous.

Now Adam’s earlier brief smirk made sense. The blackguard had set her up!

There was no way this was the best pub in London! Or even one of the best. Granted, she had never been to a pub before, not even in her small village, but she imagined that London had far more sophisticated establishments Adam could have taken her to. And yet he’d brought her here? She turned toward him, and the self-satisfied smirk still remained on his lips as he watched her survey the environment.

“Are you certain you want to go in?” the insufferable man asked innocently.

“Gladly,” Beatrice said with a confident tilt of her head and headed inside.

Approving grunts and salacious whistles followed Beatrice as she walked farther into the pub. Adam guided her with a hand on her back, walking all too close to her, so close in fact, that she could feel his breath on the back of her neck.

Beatrice tried not to look around much so as not to catch some lecherous man’s gaze. A couple of people caught her attention though. They were sitting in the corner closest to the door, and although their gazes were fixed on the newly arrived couple as well, Beatrice could have sworn they were studying Adam, not her.

Adam, pretending not to notice anybody’s attention, quickly led her toward the little table at the very back. He helped her into a seat with her back to the corner and settled across from her, shielding her view with his broad body.

Beatrice tried to twist her neck, so she could see what was going on in the pub, but he just moved even closer, successfully blocking her view.

He did it on purpose, she realized, and her annoyance with him just grew.

He was the one who’d brought her into this disreputable place, and now he was not even going to let her study her surroundings?

How was that fair?

He ordered them each a tankard of ale and looked around the room, with a frown on his face.

Well, this is quite a riveting experience.

“So,” Beatrice said loudly, and Adam’s attention snapped back to her. “This is the best pub in London?”

He shrugged. “One of.”

“No wonder you worried we would stick out like sore thumbs dressed in our usual attire.”

Another shrug. “I know what I’m doing. I know London like the back of my hand.”

Beatrice ran her finger up and down the tankard, chasing the bubbles rising to the surface. “So, one might argue that I couldn’t have found a better guide for my mission.”

“I am not your guide.” The man didn’t look even a little bit contrite.