A Simple Case of Seduction

Daphne glanced up at Thorpe and their gazes locked. Were his thoughts aligned with hers? If this overwhelming need for him continued to grow, it was inevitable they’d become lovers.

But what then?

“Don’t stand there gaping. Come and get your supper, else it will be cold.” Betsy beckoned them over, took charge and portioned the stew between four plates. Bostock took a plate even though he said he’d not long eaten. “You don’t mind if I take my supper here with you?”

“Of course not.” Daphne was glad of a chaperone else she was in danger of giving Thorpe more than her opinion on the case. “We’re incredibly grateful to you for providing such a hearty meal when you’ve had Lady Arnshaw’s gown to finish.”

“Consider it a gesture of my appreciation.”

They all took a seat around the small oak table. Daphne tried to focus on her meal but whenever Thorpe opened his mouth or moistened his lips, her stomach performed strange flips.

“Mr Bostock says they’re to stay the night.” Betsy raised a coy brow at Thorpe’s man seated across the table. The man looked down at his stew though a smile touched his lips.

Daphne almost choked on a piece of beef. It was what she’d expected after the accident in Covent Garden. But after yet another amorous interlude with the brooding Mr Thorpe, how would she sleep knowing he was but a few feet away?

Thorpe cleared his throat. “Bostock can sleep on the sofa in the parlour if Madame Fontaine agrees.”

“You can call me Betsy, Mr Thorpe, or Miss Betsy if you prefer.”

Thorpe nodded. “I shall take a chair and sit outside Mrs Chambers’ door.”

“You can’t sit out in the hall all night. Sleep on the sofa in here.” Daphne gestured to the small blue damask seat. There would be plenty of room if he dangled his legs over the arm. “It will be far more comfortable.”

“Comfort is not a consideration, Mrs Chambers.” Thorpe’s formal tone revealed nothing of his inner emotions. “I want to be certain no one enters your apartments. The best way to do that is to block the only entrance.”

“Why would anyone enter the house?” Betsy frowned. “You said there was nothing to fear now we know who smashed the window and stole the gowns.”

When Thorpe caught Daphne’s gaze, she hoped the inconspicuous shake of the head would communicate her reluctance to involve Betsy in their current investigation.

“While Miss Cartwright confessed to the theft and returned the stolen goods,” Thorpe began, “I have yet to speak to the courtesan’s accomplice, Mr Reynolds. Until I have confirmed her story, I prefer to be cautious.”

“Oh.” Betsy swallowed deeply. “When you came back with the gowns I thought …”

“There is no need for concern,” Daphne said. “Mr Thorpe is nothing if not thorough.”

They ate the rest of their meal in silence.

“Would you mind helping me move a cupboard before you retire, Mr Bostock.” Betsy eyed the man’s muscular arms. They were so large the threads on the seam of his shirt were liable to split at any moment. “It’s too heavy for me, and I’m tired of seeing clutter lying about the place.”

“Of course, Miss Betsy.”

“The wooden frame on the back window is swollen, and it gets ever so hot in the dressing room.” Betsy was determined to make use of having a man on the premises. “Would you mind seeing if you could open it?”

“Not at all, Miss Betsy.”

“Then there’s no time like the present.” Betsy stood, and Bostock followed her to the door.

“Do you need me for anything else this evening?” Bostock directed his question at Mr Thorpe.

“No, but if you could make sure all the doors and windows are secure before you retire I’d be grateful.”

“Right you are.”

Betsy and Mr Bostock left the room. Their animated chatter faded leaving nothing but the constant tick of the mantel clock to fill the silence.

“Let me find you a pillow and a blanket,” Daphne said though she doubted either of them would get much sleep. “A draught blows in through a gap in the window, and it can get cold in here at night.”

“That won’t be necessary. I have no intention of using the sofa.”