“Yes, of course!” She touched his arm. “My apologies. I want that too. In fact, you should be Lord Bodyguard while I am Mrs. Dazzling.”
“Mrs. Dazzling in a men’s costume.”
She laughed. “Just so. Why did you and your sister have different surnames? She was Blackwell before she married Sheffield, wasn’t she?”
“I was Blackwell too,” he said carefully. This was flirting with the topic he wanted to avoid as well as the subject he couldn’t reveal under any circumstances—his criminal behavior. “When I moved to Mayfair, I took a different name. Bowles just sounded more elegant.” How awful that sounded to his ears. He might as well declare the fact that he was a fraud. But was he, if he was actually an earl?
“Where did you live before? I know it was London.”
Much too close to things he didn’t want to disclose. If Anne ever learned what he’d been, what he’d done… She’d never look at him the same way again. And he rather loved the way she looked at him. As if he were her knight or, more accurately, her Lord Bodyguard.
“Since that was before I was Rafe Bowles, I can’t discuss that today,” he said with what he hoped was a careless charm.
“You did say that. I’m afraid I am overcome with curiosity about you. I want to know everything.”
He realized she was still touching his arm. That, coupled with her enthusiasm about him, was a heady combination. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to get lost in that forbidden realm with her. And he couldn’t. Not even for a kiss.
Did he really think they would get through this day without kissing?
Rafe usually tried to be unflinchingly honest with himself. Perhaps with her, he was indulging in a bit of delusion. That was beyond dangerous.
She settled back against the seat. “Tell me about Magazine Day.”
“People come in droves to buy magazines at a discount since it is the end of the month and new periodicals will be available tomorrow.”
“I shall rely upon you to steer me to the best ones.”
“Are you going to buy some?” he asked. “I though you just wanted to watch people.”
“I haven’t decided. It’s amusing that you thought I wanted to come to watch people when I really wanted to do this in order to spend time with you.”
From the corner of his eye, he could tell she was looking at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a more straightforward woman.”
“I shall take that as a compliment.”
“I meant it as one.” He couldn’t help smiling as he drove down the Haymarket toward Charing Cross.
“What food or drink will you be foisting on me today?” she asked.
“Foisting? I didn’t make you try oysters or caviar or coffee.”
“No, you did not. I love that you introduced them to me. Perhaps we’ll find an oyster cart.”
“Not in Paternoster Row, but I know of one we can visit later.” He looked at her askance. “You truly like oysters?”
She nodded. “Not caviar, though. Sorry.”
He chuckled. “We’ll see what else we can sample today. You are a very curious person, Mrs. Dazzling, and we should feed that curiosity.”
As before, Rafe parked the cabriolet off Paternoster Row and left it in the care of his tiger, a boy of twelve he’d rescued from Petticoat Lane several years before. Anne had sat in the vehicle a moment before jumping down.
She let out a sheepish laugh. “I forgot I’m supposed to be a man.”
“I did too. I nearly offered you my arm.” He was disappointed they had no reason to touch. “Be sure and stay close to me. It will be crowded.”
At her nod, they walked to Paternoster Row. “My goodness, this is very busy!” Her gaze scanned the throng of people and the vehicles clogging the street.
They moved much more slowly than their last visit, stopping to peruse magazines and navigating the crowd. As they reached the front of a bookseller’s shop, a child darted from the establishment followed by the shopkeeper, who yelled, “Stop! Thief!”
Rafe moved without thinking, slipping between people and heading the child off before he could get away through the thick crowd. He grabbed the child by the coat. His hat fell off, and dark strands of hair tumbled free past his shoulders. He tried to pull himself out of the coat in order to escape, but Rafe knew that trick well. Sweeping his arm around the child, Rafe scooped him—her?—up and carried him back toward the bookshop.
Hell, Anne. Rafe looked over the heads of those around him and sighted her immediately. She’d made her way toward him but hadn’t quite gotten there. Her eyes widened as she saw he carried the child.
Rafe inclined his head toward the bookshop, and Anne nodded in response. Damn. He didn’t really want her to witness this, but he couldn’t leave her alone outside, even if she was disguised as a man.
“Put me down!” Definitely a girl. She kicked at Rafe’s legs and hit him in the back.
“Don’t run. And don’t steal from me.” He set her down but didn’t release her. “Agreed?”
She wasn’t as much of a child as he’d thought, just small. He estimated she was maybe fifteen.
She glared at him, her dark eyes spitting fire, and dropped the book she was clutching to the floor. “I didn’t really want it anyway.”
“Yes, you did, and I’m going to let you take it, but only after you tell me why you want it and what you plan to do with it.”
The fire in her eyes sputtered, and her lips parted. She snapped them closed and turned her head toward the shopkeeper. John, a tall, thin man in his late fifties with an austere face, stood
