Oh, this was ridiculous. His sullen mood was beginning to grate. She was a grown woman who managed her own affairs, not a simpering miss naive enough to succumb to temptation.

She had no intention of creeping out in the dark to seduce him.

“Mr Thorpe, why is it that whenever our lips meet, you turn into a brooding beast? Why should one simple kiss cause you to fall into a bout of melancholy?”

“Two kisses,” he corrected. “You’ve kissed me twice, Daphne.”

Daphne stamped her foot in frustration. “Must you be so pedantic?”

“Minute details are important. Surely you know that. One kiss could be considered a mistake. Two kisses might lead a man to jump to other conclusions.” Thorpe tugged at the sleeves of his coat. “But this is a conversation for another time. Now, I ask that you lock the door behind me.”

Lord above, the man was as stubborn as a mule. “But you can’t sleep outside.”

“I have no intention of sleeping.”

Daphne jerked her head back. “But you must be exhausted. No. I’ll not allow you to sit on a hard chair in a dingy hallway while I sleep in a plush bed.”

Thorpe raised an arrogant brow. “Do you know you’re the only woman who has ever attempted to tell me what to do?”

“That’s because most women are too frightened to approach you.”

“But you’re not frightened.”

Daphne considered the comment. In Thorpe’s company, she felt safe. There was no one she trusted more. “No, Daniel. Fear is not the emotion I feel when I think of you.”

His dark gaze softened. “Then know you’re the only woman I would ever listen to. Indeed, the sofa would be more appealing if my intention was to rest my weary bones. But there is no need for concern because I’m going out.”

“Out? At this time of night?” Her tone was that of a jealous wife. “Where are you going?”

“The odd prickling in my gut forces me to go to The Mariners.”

“The Mariners?” Now she sounded like Mrs Montague’s parrot. She knew better than to question the motive of a man who relied on instinct. “Must you go tonight?”

“No doubt it will be a wasted journey.” He took his coat from the stand and shrugged into it. “But I cannot wait until tomorrow.”

“But you told Mr Bostock he could retire for the evening.” The thought of Thorpe going to the docks alone terrified her.

“Bostock will remain here as instructed.”

“Have … have you arranged to meet someone there?” Was he intent on speaking to the woman who’d lured Thomas to drink in the sailors’ den? The last person to see Thomas alive. Daphne looked him in the eye. “Is it the mystery woman the Turners spoke of?”

Jealousy flared. How odd? She’d felt nothing when she discovered Thomas had met with the wench numerous times.

“Her name is Lily Lawson. The Turners said she waits for the Carron whenever it docks. That’s tomorrow by all accounts. But the weather can alter the best-laid plans. As I’ve heard she rents a room in the vicinity, logic says I might find her there tonight.” He brushed his hand through his hair. “I can’t sit around idle when there’s a lead to follow.”

“Then I am coming with you. I shall go out of my mind sitting alone waiting for news.”

Thorpe smiled. “I’d not have it any other way.”

Chapter 11

Daniel hired a hackney to take them to the docks rather than send word to Murphy. The decision had nothing to do with giving the coachman time to finish his supper. Discretion was paramount, and his carriage always drew attention. The black matching pair were such excellent specimens of their breed it was as good as leaving a calling card.

As they approached the London Docks, Daniel leant closer to Daphne seated at his side. “I assume you brought a weapon.” He’d make sure she had no need to use it but took pleasure from the spark of excitement in her eyes whenever he spoke to her as an equal.

She smiled. “When working on a case, I’m never without a means of protection.”

He glanced right and scanned her from head to toe, wondering whether she had a blade strapped to her thigh, a pistol tucked into her bodice. “Will you tell me where you’ve hidden this weapon or am I supposed to guess?” Of course, he’d be happy to frisk her, to run his hands over every inch of her body in the hope of finding one.

Tags: Adele Clee Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net