The Awakening Of Miss Henley. Julia Justiss

had slowed and she was darting occasional, surreptitious glances at the man.

      Indeed, so preoccupied was she with Greasy Waistcoat that Theo was able to draw quite near with her still unaware of his presence.

      ‘What, escaped your traces again, Miss Henley?’

      Gasping, she whirled to face him. ‘Lord Theo!’ she cried, the alarm in her voice fading as she recognised him. ‘You gave me such a start!’

      ‘As you did me. I’ve followed for a few streets, enough to confirm, to my astonishment, that you are, in fact, walking without any escort at all. Outriding your groom in the park is one thing. Whatever are you doing in this part of town, bereft of footmen or even a maid to attend you?’

      ‘Shop girls and housemaids walk everywhere in London without anyone to attend them,’ she responded, aggravation and a touch of defiance in her tone.

      ‘Shop girls and housemaids are not dressed in a gown of fine silk topped by a fur-trimmed pelisse. In some streets in London, you could be robbed for the clothes you stand in—if not worse.’

      Her eyes widening in alarm, she glanced towards still-loitering Greasy Waistcoat. Who, after Theo caught his gaze with a look of unmistakable warning, hastily turned and scurried off in the opposite direction. ‘Surely not here!’ she protested.

      ‘No, probably not here,’ Theo allowed. ‘But where are you going? Stray a few streets to the east and you could find yourself in trouble in short order.’

      ‘In my defence, I hadn’t intended to walk alone. After visiting Lady Lyndlington with some friends, I shared a hackney home with them. I’d just bade Miss Overton goodbye in Hanover Square when the idea struck me to make…one more visit before returning home. The day being fair, I decided to proceed on foot.’

      ‘Visiting Lady Lyndlington, were you? Attempting to avoid the confrontation with your mother a while longer?’ he guessed. ‘Or delaying your return home to put off having to deal with the consequences of that interview?’

      She grimaced. ‘If you must know, I haven’t spoken with her yet. It’s a discussion I freely admit I’m not looking forward to. But it must take place, for I am determined to assert my independence, sooner rather than later. I suppose I could have returned to the Overtons and borrowed a maid from Olivia—but why should I? If I’m soon to be on my own, able to come and go freely as I please, why not begin now? It’s not as if Mrs Lattimar’s school on Dean Street is a dive in St Giles.’

      ‘Ah, so that’s where you are headed. Is supporting her endeavour to be part of the good works you mentioned?’

      ‘I certainly hope so. It’s a worthy cause.’

      ‘I applaud your intentions, but even an independent lady takes a care for her safety. Shop girls and maids often walk in pairs and few women wander about London entirely on their own.’

      She sighed. ‘Much as it pains me to admit it, you may be right. This is the first time I’ve ever walked in the city entirely on my own. Perhaps I just never noticed before, while accompanied by a maid or footman, how men…stare at a woman. Which is so unfair! Men can walk unmolested wherever they please!’

      ‘Gentlemen walking alone are still cautious and generally carry a potentially lethal walking stick. A well-dressed female going about unattended is remarkable enough to invite scrutiny from a number of quarters, some of which are bound to be unsavoury.’

      ‘Perhaps it would be more prudent to take an escort,’ she conceded. ‘But admitting that doesn’t mean that I intend to waylay you! Surely I can get from here to Dean Street without incident. I promise I will send for a footman to accompany me home.’

      ‘I’m sure Mrs Lattimar would not allow you to leave the premises without an escort. But I can delay my task long enough to see you safely to her school.’

      Somewhat to his surprise, she didn’t protest further. If the scrutiny of Greasy Waistcoat had shaken her enough to eliminate further argument, he could only be grateful.

      But, being Emma Henley, the chastened mood didn’t last long. A moment later, she peeped back up at him, her unsettled look replaced by one of curious scrutiny. ‘A “task”, you said? The word implies a burden. I thought you adept at wriggling out of doing anything truly onerous.’

      ‘This task isn’t precisely “onerous”. Completing it does get me out of something that has become…annoying.’

      The lingering anger beneath that innocuous word must have coloured his voice, for she raised her eyebrows and chuckled. ‘Headed to Rundell and Bridges to find just the right bijou to inform Lady Ballister of her congé?’

      Both impressed and exasperated by her perspicacity, he said loftily, ‘A necessary task is best done as swiftly as possible.’

      ‘Putting you in quite a dilemma! What, exactly, to select? It must be something fine enough not to insult the lady, but not so opulent as to give her any hope that the gesture isn’t a final one.’

      ‘Does your lack of sensibility have no bounds?’ he shot back, surprised once again. ‘A gently bred virgin should know nothing about such matters!’

      ‘Oh, pish-tosh. Just because—alas—I am never likely to be in such a situation doesn’t mean I can’t imagine it.’

      Meaning she never intended to take a lover—or would never behave badly enough to lose one? He found his gaze lingering on the full, sensual lips that so often uttered such unexpected comments…and heat built again within him. Would she make as unconventional and surprising a lover as she did a conversationalist?

      Noticing the gaze he’d fixed on her mouth, she felt her fair skin colour. Self-consciously, she licked her lips.

      The intensity of desire fired by that simple gesture sounded a warning in his distracted brain. This would never do! The longing she inspired could go nowhere.

      Reining himself back in, he managed to summon an amused tone. ‘So, using your ever-active imagination, I suppose you have suggestions for a suitable gift?’

      ‘Ah, let me see.’ She put a finger to her chin in an exaggerated gesture of concentration. ‘Might I propose…a jewelled chatelaine?’

      Though her comments were often unusual, that suggestion was so outrageous he burst out laughing. ‘An exquisitely worked piece on which she can hang the keys to her husband’s manse? Implying that she would do better to devote her talents to tending him?’

      She grinned. ‘Do you think the recommendation might work?’

      ‘It might work to make her furious! So furious, I’m halfway tempted to try it. Though I’d risk having her come after me some time in the night, attempting to strangle me with it.’

      ‘A noble death, trying to lead a wayward lady back to the straight and moral path. But obviously too daring an undertaking for such a timid soul as you. I suppose it shall have to be a ring or necklace, then.’

      He was trying to come up with a suitable reply to that jibe as she led him around the corner. ‘Well, here we are. The school is just down this street. You’ve delivered me safely and may proceed to discharge your dangerous task.’

      ‘A gentleman always sees a lady inside the front door of her destination,’ he replied, reluctant to leave her energising presence, as he seemed to be so often of late. No other female dared talk to him as she did, offering taunts instead of flattery. And few individuals of his acquaintance came up with as many startling, out-of-the-ordinary observations.

      ‘The school already boasts several influential patrons to assist in its good work, does it not?’ he asked, compelled to draw out their time together a bit longer.

      ‘Yes. In addition to Lady Lyndlington, it’s supported by her father, the Marquess of Witlow, and her aunt, the Dowager Countess Lady Sayleford, as well as Mrs Lattimar’s mother-in-law.’

      ‘Lady