She sat in the chair beside the fire. “I see what you mean. It would have been helpful had the Sheriff attacked today.”
“Not a very obliging criminal.” He poked the fire again. Anything to avoid looking directly at her in the nightgown. “What did you learn?”
She straightened her shoulders as though giving a report. “Mrs. Wattles was indeed in the kitchen and quite busy there. I fail to see how she could step away and not be missed. However unlikely, such a feat is possible. I suggest she remain on the list. Peg was likewise too busy to speak with me. Her mother and father keep her occupied, but she flirted with your Mr. Cardy. Her father made certain the two of them didn’t converse for long.”
“Cardy must have spoken to her when I was with Goodman.” Pierce replaced the poker and wiped his brow. “And what of Mrs. Penter?”
“You should remove your hat and scarf,” she remarked.
He didn’t need to be asked twice to remove one of the heavy layers.
“Mrs. Penter remained in her rooms all day. I couldn’t verify that, as the maidservant said she hadn’t called for her, but the girl also said she hadn’t seen her leave. The nephew is presumably at his home in the village.”
Pierce laid his coat and scarf over one arm and leaned on the mantel. “This is a less-than-promising beginning.”
“I agree, but the Sheriff will not rest long. Surely, he will strike again soon.”
“We can only hope.”
The fire crackled and hissed in the silence.
“Are you eager to return to London?” she asked.
“Not particularly.” Except for attending a church service, he’d spent Christmas Day alone. “Are you? I’m sure you want to spend the rest of the holiday with your sister.”
“I do. I...I never asked if you have any family in Town.”
“I don’t.” He should take his leave now. The conversation had turned strained and awkward, and the matters related to their mission had been discussed. He wanted to stay with her, prolong this encounter, fill his eyes with the sight of her with her hair down and her prim nightgown and its little bow tied at her neck. He wanted to loose that bow. “My father and mother died several years ago. I have brothers and sisters, but we aren’t close, and none of them live in London.”
“Friends?”
“Difficult.”
“Because of the work.” She pushed up from the chair, but her gaze was everywhere but on him. She took the poker and prodded the fire, though he’d already seen to it.
“I would have to say other than my sister June, Bonde has been my only real friend. We do tend to make friends with those we see daily.”
“Yes.” His friends tended to be the other clerks at the Barbican. “Even our lovers are among the Barbican elite. Look at Wolf and Saint, Baron and Butterfly. I had thought you and I...”
She dropped the poker with a clatter. “Pierce, I don’t wish to discuss this again. We shared one night together, and then you felt obligated to ask for my hand in marriage.”
“What?”
She gave him a hard stare. “Do not deny it. You didn’t ask me because you loved me.”
He lifted the poker and handed it to her. Stupid, that. She didn’t need it, didn’t want it. “I asked because I enjoyed your company and I desired you. I thought love might come in time. Did you love—I mean, do you—”
“I think you should go.”
As a child, he’d always run from bullies and conflict. He never faced the problems head-on. Would he run now? “Give me another chance,” he said, standing his ground.
“Pardon me?”
“Another chance.”
He dropped his coat and scarf, and because she hadn’t said no, pulled at the bow closing the nightgown at her neck. “Let me show you what marriage to me might be like. That first time—”
Too late, she swatted his hand away. “I don’t think that’s wise.”
“Fiend seize wise,” he said, trailing a finger down the soft, exposed skin just below her neck. “Why can’t you and I, for once, be spontaneous, passionate, reckless?”
“Reckless?” Her voice was breathy, and the color had risen in her cheeks. “Reckless was taking those books from the Dungeon.”
“So you haven’t forgotten those. Would you like me to show you what I learned?”
“That wouldn’t be wise.”
“Oh, no. Definitely not.” He loosened the tie on her robe and pushed the garment off her shoulders.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Undressing you.”
“Is that necessary?”
“Yes.” He tugged at another ribbon on her nightgown.
“All of my clothing must go?” She sounded appalled.
He felt the pulse of lust beating in his veins. He’d never seen a woman completely naked before him.
“All of it.”
“I don’t—”
The ribbon parted, exposing more of her soft skin. “You’re going to like this.” Dear God, he hoped she would. He hoped he could remember what he’d had in mind when he finally had her stripped naked. Her gaze never left his as he slid his finger down her lips, her chin, her neck, and into her cleavage. Another tug, and the ribbon revealed a glorious sliver of pale flesh.
Her gown was open to mid-chest now, and he’d run out of ribbons. He’d have to pull it over her head. She hadn’t objected yet, so he smoothed his hands slowly down her belly, feeling the barest hint of the swell of her breast. The books had said he should go very, very slowly, but it was a trial because he was so eager to touch her.
When his hands spanned her small waist, he clutched the linen in one hand and tugged upward. Her small white feet were revealed, followed by her shapely calves. He waited for her to protest, but her eyes only darkened and stayed locked on his. He saw in those brown depths a trust he
