Miss Cartwright snorted. “Imagine the scowl on Lady Tranmere’s face when she sees me wearing the lilac gown. She knows full well her husband bought it for me. She will believe Tranmere and I are still lovers. He will want rid of me and will pay handsomely to secure my co-operation. And she will suffer humiliation in front of her precious friends.”
“One’s imagination can often run away with them,” Thorpe said with a smirk. “Even the best plans go awry. So allow me to give you a realistic view of what will occur.” He straightened to his full height and clasped his hands behind his back. “Your maid will bring the items you stole from Madame Fontaine and put them in my carriage. You have until tomorrow to be out of this house. I’m sure Tranmere will allow you to keep any gifts he purchased. But once he hears of your plan to drain him dry, I sense he will beg Lady Tranmere to forgive him.”
“You’re asking me to leave my home?” For the first time since they’d set foot in the drawing room, Miss Cartwright’s arrogant countenance faltered.
“No, I’m telling you to leave.” Thorpe reached into his pocket, withdrew a banknote and gave it to Miss Cartwright. “Tranmere will cover a month’s stay at The Burlington. I suggest you accept else I’ve no doubt you’ll face transportation, perhaps even the noose.”
Miss Cartwright tightened the belt on her wrapper and with a disgruntled huff snatched the note from Mr Thorpe’s hand. “What choice do I have?”
“None.” Thorpe inclined his head. “We shall leave you to pack and will wait in the carriage for your maid to bring Madame Fontaine’s items. Rest assured, I shall have words with Mr Reynolds. Good day, Miss Cartwright. And may you find another gentleman foolish enough to fall for your womanly wiles.”
With a tug of the bell pull strong enough to free it of its moorings, the courtesan summoned her servant.
Mr Thorpe touched Daphne lightly on the elbow and escorted her back to the carriage. One might have assumed it was anger at Miss Cartwright’s disparaging remarks that caused Daphne’s hands to shake and her breath to come quickly. But witnessing Thorpe’s lack of interest in the courtesan, his cold and rather blunt tone when dealing with the ravishing creature, roused a strange sensation in her chest.
Thorpe was renowned for his abrupt manner and frosty tone, yet when with Daphne there wa
s a warm, caring side he rarely showed anyone else.
As he assisted Daphne into the carriage, their gazes locked. Good Lord, her heart fluttered so erratically it was about to take flight. Their earlier kiss stemmed from a need to test a theory, to prove a point. Now, she imagined kissing him for an entirely different reason.
“I think Miss Cartwright fancied you as her new benefactor,” Daphne said as they waited for the maid to bring the stolen garments out. A lump formed in her throat at the thought of Thorpe taking the strumpet in his arms and kissing her tenderly. “The woman was practically drooling.”
“Some women find authority attractive, though I doubt I possess the refinement necessary to warm her bed.”
“Nonsense,” Daphne blurted. “You may not have a title, but you are every bit a gentleman.”
He shuffled uncomfortably in the seat. “Are you suggesting I make Miss Cartwright an offer?”
Lord no! She would rather jump off a bridge into the Thames with an iron ball shackled to her ankle.
“That all depends. Do … do you want to warm her bed?”
“I wouldn’t bed Miss Cartwright if she were the last woman in London.” Thorpe’s intense brown eyes studied her. “Intelligence and integrity excite me far more than fluttering lashes and a seductive pout.”
For once, Daphne didn’t know what to say. While she stared at him, her mind conjured a whimsical daydream, where the gentleman opposite did all sorts of amorous things whenever she offered an insightful argument or comment. The sudden need for Thorpe to see her as physically attractive pushed to the fore. She wanted to see those dark eyes filled with desire as he studied her naked form. She wanted to see his cool facade falter as he ran a hand over her bare skin.
Heavens above!
Daphne coughed and cleared her throat to banish her lustful fantasy.
Thankfully, the maid stumbled down the steps with the garments draped over her arm while she carried a tower of boxes. The coachman climbed down and offered his assistance.
Thorpe opened the door. “Put the parcels in here, Murphy. Arrange the boxes on the seat and lay the gowns flat on top. Mrs Chambers will sit next to me for the duration of our journey.”
Despite the odd tickle in her belly at the thought of being squashed next to Thorpe’s muscular frame, Daphne moved across to the opposite side of the carriage, sat down and assisted the servants in organising Madame Fontaine’s stolen apparel.
“Do you know the gentleman Miss Cartwright mentioned?” Thorpe asked as the carriage trundled along on its way back to New Bond Street. “The one who broke into Madame Fontaine’s shop?”
“Mr Reynolds? No, but Betsy might know of him.”
“Pay it no mind. I shall find his address soon enough.” Though said in a casual tone, there was a dangerous air about his countenance that prickled the hairs at her nape.
“What do you intend to do?”
One corner of his mouth twitched arrogantly. “Oh, I intend to visit him in his room at night and scare him half to death. To let him know it is never a good idea to frighten a lady in her home. When I’m done, he’ll kiss my knuckles and thank me for not reporting his nefarious deeds to the magistrate.”
The second comment was lost on her for it was his first statement that made her shiver. It was a poor choice of words on Mr Thorpe’s part. Memories of nightmares flooded her vision, of imagined figures lurking at the end of her bed — of the ghostly intruder with the power to walk through locked doors.