Passionately Yours (Hellions of High Street 3)

“Yes, of course,” replied Caro quickly, hoping to forestall any further rudeness. Ye gods, the man had the manners of a Highland goat. “Andy was just taking his leave.”

Too polite to ignore her hint, Andover retreated gracefully.

“No wonder the people all look ill in here,” muttered Alec. “The sulfurous fumes are strong enough to choke the Devil himself.”

“It is said to be healthful,” pointed out Caro, but secretly she agreed with him. The water had left a bilious taste in her mouth.

“Shall we take a walk in Queen Square?” He offered his arm, adding gruffly, “It will afford a bit more privacy.”

Impatient to hear what he had to say, she didn’t object to his loping, long-legged stride as they hurried down the street, though she had to lift her skirts to keep pace.

“Well?” she demanded, as soon as they passed through the iron gates and turned down one of the graveled paths. The ominous rainclouds hovering low on the horizon had scared off all but a few hardy souls, so they had the walkway to themselves.

He slowed his steps all of a sudden, appearing in no hurry to get down to business. His hat required adjustment, his coat buttons needed to be undone and refastened.

Caro made herself count silently to ten.

“Forgive me,” he finally said. “I trust I did not interrupt an important conversation.”

The baron acknowledging social convention? It was amusing enough to bring a wry smile to her lips.

“It is a little late to worry about that,” she replied. “But no, there is no cause for concern. Lord Andover will be in town for a month, so we will have ample time to talk.”

“Hmmph.” Alec’s grunt gave nothing away. “I take it,” he said after another drawn-out pause to smooth the wrinkles from his gloves, “that the gentleman is one of your London admirers?”

Perhaps it was merely the breeze ruffling through the sharp-edged holly leaves, but his tone seemed shaded by doubt.

“You think it impossible that I might have any?”

Alec looked taken aback by her question. But rather than snap back with one of his usual gruff responses, he took his time in responding. “I meant to imply no such thing. I have no doubt that you are surrounded by a bevy of men seeking to make themselves agreeable to you.”

For a moment, Caro thought he was being sarcastic, but the momentary flicker in his eyes just before he lowered his lashes said otherwise.

Lud, he had very intriguing eyes.

“A compliment from you, sir? Good Heavens, I should have brought my smelling salts.”

The corners of his mouth tugged upward. “Consider it an observation, not a compliment. So no need to swoon.”

“Thank God,” she murmured. “The stones look awfully sharp and uncomfortable.”

“You don’t think that I would catch you?”

“I wouldn’t want to wager my quarterly allowance on it. Besides, you already rescued me once in recent days. I daresay you don’t want to make a habit of it.”

His face wreathed in a grudging smile.

“Actually,” she hurried on, forcing herself to ignore the sinuous curl of his lower lip. “I am far more interested in your observations about the recent attack on your sister and me, and the reasons that lie behind it. Did you discover any new information while you were away?”

“Yes.” A pause. “But I can’t say it’s overly helpful.”

She frowned.

“It turns out that in fact there has been a gang of ruffians roaming the area and committing violent crimes. A carriage outside of Bristol was accosted a week ago and the occupants robbed. An estate house was broken into and ransacked. Several of the men were apprehended the other night and are awaiting trial. The rest escaped capture.”

“So you are saying that it truly was a random attack?”

He took a long moment to form an answer. “I have no evidence to the contrary.”