Disturbed, when they reached the stairs and Daisy had gone ahead, Leonora paused and caught Trentham’s eye. “I hope you intend making good on that promise.”
His gaze was steady and remained so; eventually he replied, “I will.” He studied her face, then added, “I meant what I said.” Stepping past her, he started down the stairs. “I
She frowned at the back of his head—the man was a complete conundrum—then followed him down the stairs.
She trailed after him as he systematically checked every single window and door on the ground floor, then descended to the basement and did the same there. He was thorough and, to her eyes, coolly professional, as if securing premises against intruders had been a frequent task in his erstwhile occupation. It was increasingly difficult to dismiss him as “just another military man.”
In the end, he nodded to Daisy. “This is better than I expected. Has she always been worried about intruders?”
“Oh, yes, sir, m’lord. Ever since I came here to do for her, and that’s going on six years, now.”
“Well, if you lock every lock and shoot every bolt, you’ll be as safe as you could be.”
Leaving a grateful and reassured Daisy, they walked down the garden path. Reaching the gate, Leonora, who’d been pursuing her own thoughts, glanced at Trentham. “Is the house truly secure?”
He looked at her, then held the gate open. “As secure as it can be. There’s no way to stop a determined intruder.” He fell into step beside her as they paced along the pavement. “If he uses force—breaking a window or forcing a door—he’ll get in, but I don’t think our man is likely to be so direct. If we’re right in thinking it’s Number 14 he wants access to, then to get that via Number 16, he’ll have to have a few nights undetected to tunnel through the basement walls. He won’t get that if he’s too obvious about how he gets in.”
“So as long as Daisy is vigilant, all should be well.”
When he didn’t say anything, she looked at him. He sensed her glance, caught her eye. Grimaced. “On our way in, I was wondering how to introduce some man into the household, at least until we’ve laid this burglar by the heels. But she’s frightened of men, isn’t she?”
“Yes.” She was astonished he’d been so perceptive. “You’re one of the few I’ve ever known her to talk to beyond the barest commonplace.”
He nodded, looked down. “She’d be too uncomfortable with a man under her roof, so it’s lucky those locks are so sound. We’ll have to put our faith in them.”
“And do everything we can to catch this burglar soon.”
Her determination rang in her voice.
They’d reached the gate of Number 14. Tristan halted, met her gaze. “I suppose there’s no point insisting you leave the matter of the burglar in my hands?”
Her periwinkle blue eyes hardened. “None.”
He exhaled, looked away down the street. He wasn’t above lying for a good cause. Wasn’t above using distractions, either, despite their inherent danger.
Before she could shift away, he caught her hand. Turned his head and trapped her gaze. Held it while with his fingers he sought, then flicked the opening in her glove wide, then raised her wrist, the inner face now exposed, to his lips.
Felt the quiver that raced through her, watched her head lift, her eyes darken.
He smiled, slowly, intently. Softly decreed, “What’s between you and me remains between you and me, but it hasn’t gone away.”
Her lips set; she tugged, but he didn’t release her, instead, with his thumb, languidly caressed the spot he’d kissed.
She caught her breath, then hissed, “I’m not interested in any dalliance.”
Eyes on hers, he raised a brow. “No more am I.” He was interested in distracting her. They’d both be better off with her concentrating on him rather than on the burglar. “In the interests of our acquaintance”—in the interests of his sanity—“I’m willing to make a deal.”
Suspicion glowed in her eyes. “What deal?”
He chose his words carefully. “If you promise to do no more than keep your eyes and ears open, to do no more than watch and listen and report all to me when next I call, I’ll agree to share with you all I discover.”
Her expression turned haughtily dismissive. “And what if you don’t discover anything?”
His lips remained curved, but he let his mask slide, let his true self show briefly. “Oh, I will.” His voice was soft, faintly menacing; its tone held her.
Again, slowly, deliberately, he raised her wrist to his lips.
Holding her gaze, kissed.
“Do we have a deal?”
She blinked, refocused on his eyes, then her breasts swelled as she drew in a deep breath. And nodded. “Very well.”
He released her wrist; she all but snatched it back.
“But on one condition.”
He raised his brows, now as haughty as she. “What?”
“I’ll watch and listen and do no more if you promise to call and tell me what you’ve discovered
His gaze locked with hers, he considered, then let his lips ease. He inclined his head. “As soon as practicable, I’ll share any discovery.”
She was mollified, and surprised to be so. He hid a grin and bowed. “Good day, Miss Carling.”
She held his gaze for a moment longer, then inclined her head. “Good day, my lord.”
Days passed.
Leonora watched and listened, but nothing of any moment occurred. She was content with their bargain; there was in truth little else she could do beyond watch and listen, and the knowledge that if anything did occur, Trentham expected to be involved in dealing with it was unexpectedly heartening. She’d grown used to acting alone, indeed eschewed the help of others who in general were more likely to get in her way, yet Trentham was undeniably able—with him involved, she felt confident of resolving the issue of the burglaries. Staff started to appear at Number 12; Trentham occasionally called in there, as duly reported by Toby, but did not venture to knock on the Carlings’ front door.
The only factor that disturbed her equanimity was her recollections of that kiss in the night. She’d tried to forget it, simply put it from her mind, an aberration on both their parts, yet forgetting the way her pulse leapt whenever he came near was much harder. And she had absolutely no idea how to interpret his comment that what lay between them hadn’t gone away.
Did he mean he intended to pursue it?
But then he’d declared he wasn’t interested in dalliance any more than she was. Despite his past occupation, she was learning to take his words at face value.
Indeed, his tactful dealings with the old soldier Biggs, his discretion in not speaking of her nighttime adventures, and his unprecedented charming of Miss Timmins, going out of his way to reassure and see to the old lady’s safety, had in large part ameliorated her prejudice.
Perhaps Trentham was one of those whose existence proved the rule—a trustworthy military man, one who could be relied on, at least in certain matters.
Despite that, she wasn’t entirely certain she could rely on him to tell her all and anything he discovered. Nevertheless, she would have allowed him a few more days’ grace if it hadn’t been for the watcher.
At first, it was simply a sensation, a prickling of her nerves, an eerie feeling of being observed. Not just in the street, but in the back garden, too; that last unnerved her. The first of the earlier attacks on her had occurred just inside the front gate; she no longer walked in the front garden.
She began taking Henrietta with her wherever she went, and if that wasn’t possible, a footman.
With time, her nerves would doubtless have calmed, steadied.
But then, strolling in the back garden late one afternoon as the abbreviated February twilight closed in, she glimpsed a man standing almost at the rear of the garden, beyond the hedge that bisected the long plot. Framed by the central arch in the hedge, a lean, dark figure swathed in a dark cloak, he stood among the vegetable beds—and
