Mistress of Scandal (Greentree Sisters 3)

“I didn’t mean it to happen,” she said now, lifting her chin. “It just did.” She wasn’t going to apologize, of course she wasn’t. Francesca Greentree had probably never apologized for anything in her life.

“You know you’re in grave danger? These people will kill you if they catch you.”

“I very much doubt that! When I tell them who I am—”

“All the more reason to do away with you, before you can draw the attention of the Metropolitan Police down on them.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

He wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled. He wanted to squeeze her in his arms and curse her for her courageous and thoughtless foolhardiness. And he wanted to kiss her, because she was like no other woman he’d ever known.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Thorne, if it’s so very dangerous?” He knew she was fixing him with her direct look, while that needle-sharp mind was searching for the truth. And the last thing he needed was for Francesca to find out the truth.

He sighed, as if he had better things to do. “I was working. I was watching someone. And now you’ve frightened them off.”

“You look like you’re out on the town,” Francesca accused him. “Another gentleman with more money than sense.”

“That’s how I’m meant to look,” he said between gritted teeth. “I am in disguise.”

“So am I.”

“I knew the moment I saw you that you were a gentlewoman wandering where she shouldn’t be. Your clothing is wrong. If you want to fit in you should wear your scullery maid’s clothing, or else buy from a shop that sells corpse clothing.”

There was a pause, and he thought he’d probably gone too far. Just as he began to wonder what she’d say in return, she spoke, and as usual she surprised him. “I’ll bear it in mind for next time,” she said evenly.

He laughed. He wanted to kiss her, and in a moment he might have done so.

Lil must have thought so too, because she cleared her throat noisily. “Miss, where are we going to take Rosie? She needs to be made safe. If these people are so dangerous, then we have to hide her.”

“We’ll take her home,” Francesca announced confidently, making her way out of the narrow gate, and back to the street. “Just until Vivianna returns to London and I can arrange for her to take Rosie in. My sister,” she explained frostily to Sebastian, “runs a charity school.”

“I don’t want to go to no charity school!” Rosie wailed.

Francesca cast him a look, as if this was his fault, and then lifted the child so they were eye to eye. Instantly her manner changed, and she was all gentle and reassuring. “My sister’s name is Vivianna, and she’s a lady. You’ll love her, Rosie. Everyone does. And she will love you just as she loves all the children in her school. You see it’s a very special school.”

“No slops?” Rosie whispered.

“Definitely no slops. When you arrive my sister will ask you to choose a color, and you will be given a smock of that special color, your color. Because she believes every child in her school is different and special.”

Rosie gave a tentative smile, her eyes growing thoughtful. “I want to wear pink,” she said with certainty. “Pink is my color.”

“I’m sure they will have pink. I like pink, too.”

“Bloody hell, can we get on?” Sebastian burst out.

“You are swearing in front of a child, Mr. Thorne.”

“I’m so sorry. But they’ll be back to find us. Do you really want to wait around?”

“If you’re frightened, Mr. Thorne, we will excuse you,” Francesca said, but her steps quickened.

He gave an angry laugh. “I just saved your neck.”

“Nonsense. I was perfectly capable of saving my own neck.”

“This is not Yorkshire,” he went on, aware he was beginning to rant, and yet unable to help himself. “You’re a stranger here, and as far as these people are concerned, you’ve strayed into their territory, so you’re prey. They’ll take your money and every stitch of your clothing, and leave you for dead.”

“You forget that it was I who saved you from the mire. And without a lecture, I might add.”