“Then he should be punched every time he does so.” It was hardly complicated.
She looked like she might be trying not to smile. “Very true.” She tilted her head slightly, like one of the birds embroidered around her neckline. “You didn’t really strike him on my account, did you?”
“Of course, I did.”
She bit her bottom lip, but the smile finally won out. He was entirely too pleased about that. It was like winning a prize at the fair. “Thank you,” she said. She leaned closer, as if she had a secret. She smelled like sweets. It made him smile back. “I’ve wanted to punch him for a long time.”
He was honestly baffled. “Then why did you pet him like he was a cat with a stepped-on tail?”
She opened her hand. In it was the red velvet pouch with the gold tassel. The one Eaton had taken with him after the wagers. The one he’d tucked inside his waistcoat, full of coins.
“How else was I supposed to confiscate this?” She asked, all innocence. “Since it’s our future being wagered on and mocked, we should get the spoils, don’t you think?” She added under her breath, fiercely. “Finally.”
Dougal stared at her.
She hadn’t been smoothing Eaton’s waistcoat.
She’d been stealing from him.
“Miss Swift,” he said in all earnestness. “You truly are splendid.”