Chapter 6 #2
She brought her hand back, and with a bit of distance, Leonard was able to breathe a bit better.
“Ma’am,” he gritted out with clenched teeth. His heart was still hammering away, and he hated that she had gotten any sort of reaction out of him. “Please take a step back and refrain from touching my hair.”
She did as he asked, but the coy smile playing about her lips had him wondering all sorts of things. Such as, how did this woman derive so much pleasure from ruining other people’s days?
“Now,” he said on a sigh, more comfortable now that his personal space wasn’t being infringed upon. “You have admitted to stealing my ring. If you would only return it to me, then I will leave and never, ever return.”
“I highly doubt that.” Her voice was a deep purr.
He shook his head. “Because?”
“Because I now have your watch.” She held it in the air, dangling it around one finger.
Leonard pressed a hand to his pocket. To his horror, his watch was indeed gone.
He reached up and snatched it from her hand before tucking it away, his fingers fumbling.
“What is wrong with you? And how do you keep doing that?” For reasons unexplained, she made him nervous.
And he didn’t like that at all. He was the master of himself.
Emotions, thoughts, feelings, actions. For one woman to put him so off his ease was quite alarming.
“Those are excellent questions, Mr. Stanton, but they will have to be kept for another day.”
“Then I suppose, if you refuse to return my property to me, I shall have to inform the constable.” His fingers still fumbled, but he met her gaze with what he hoped passed as confidence.
Mrs. Gillingham’s hips swayed as she strode over and grabbed her glass of port. “And tell them what, exactly? That a respectable widow of some means stole from you? What proof do you have to show them? You would look quite the fool and lose any respect you have in society.”
“I do not care what people think of me. People will think what they do, and I have no control of that.”
For the first time during this bizarre interaction, Mrs. Gillingham’s bolstering confidence seemed to slip. Her smile fell, and her grasp on her glass loosened. But just as easily as it fell, it came back. “That is a wonderful skill to have. Especially in London.”
Leonard sighed, his shoulders dropping as he realized he might never get his ring back. “Ma’am—”
“Honora, please.” Then the woman had the audacity to sigh at him as if he were to blame for any of this. “I fear I no longer have it.”
Leonard dipped his head, taking a breath. His grip on composure was becoming looser with every word this woman spoke. “And why is that?”
“I sold it, naturally.”
His stomach fell. Any hope he had of getting back his property was dashed to shreds. What an ugly streak of luck he had in life. The burdens of being a firstborn son without any of the benefits, no control over what he wanted, and now this ridiculous situation.
“No,” he corrected. “That is not the natural assumption at all. The natural assumption would be that a young woman, a widow of all things, would not go about thieving!” His chest heaved, and he balled a fist up at his side.
“Let me guess.” Mrs. Gillingham held her glass, raising her nose in the air so she could look down at him. “You have massive gambling debts and are desperate for the money?”
“That’s an ugly thing to assume about someone.”
“Life is ugly, Mr. Stanton. Forgive me for being realistic.”
Enough was enough. Clearly their conversation was going nowhere fast, so Leonard strode to the sofa and retook his gloves, then yanked the first one on.
“This has been a pointless visit, Mrs. Gillingham, and I am sorry to have wasted both our time.” He finished with his second glove.
“Though I have the distinct impression that you find some sort of humor in all of this, which speaks to your character more than mine.” He jerked his head up to see her staring at him, her eyes giving away the slightest bit of intrigue.
“Have a good day, ma’am. You shall be hearing from the authorities soon. ”
He was almost to the door. The taste of freedom from this stifling room was on his lips. Until . . .
“Mr. Stanton.”
With barely restrained patience, he stopped.
Her shoes clacked on the wooden floorboards, then became muffled as she walked across the rug toward him. “Perhaps I have an idea.”
The velvetiness of her voice caused a chill to run down his spine. “I do not know that I am interested in an idea coming from you.”
“I do not have the ring, but I believe I have a way to get you your money back.”
He turned, taking a calming breath. “And what is your proposition? Steal the crown jewels?”
Mrs. Gillingham lifted her brow. “No, but I like your determination.”
Leonard rolled his eyes. “I was only—”
“Joking,” she finished for him. “Of course. I am not an imbecile.” Lifting a hand to her chin with a smile, she continued. “I only need your services, for which I will pay you handsomely.”
He did not trust the sort of services she was likely referring to, and yet, he worried she was correct.
If he went to the authorities but had no proof of her thieving, and she turned out to be a respected member of society, his credit as a gentleman could be called into question.
That, and only that, was the reason he asked his next question. “Is the service illegal?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Not precisely.”
That didn’t bode well. And yet, he found himself asking, “How much are you willing to pay?” Perhaps he should find a way not to despise his father so much. It was now getting him into a heap of trouble.
“How much do you need?” she asked.
“Six hundred pounds.”
Mrs. Gillingham tucked her chin as she pursed her lips. “My, my. You really have gotten yourself into some trouble.”
“Mrs. Gillingham, I would appreciate it if you would stop making assumptions regarding things you have no idea about. It makes you rather difficult to be around.”
A choked laugh slipped out of her. Then her smile widened further. “Point taken, sir. But are you going to inform me why you need these funds?”
“Are you going to tell me why you stole my property in the first place?”
“If I do, will you reciprocate?”
He paused, running through all the possibilities before opening his mouth. What would his admission cost him other than some pride?
“I will,” he said with a nod. “And when I give someone my word, I keep it. Which is exactly why I need this money.”
The intrigue in her eyes grew. “You promised it to someone?”
“Yes. Nearly seven years ago.”
“And only now they are demanding it?”
“It was a wager, and this year I have been forced to pay since I was the one to lose.”
“Interesting.” Her brow furrowed. “May I know the particulars of the wager?”
“You first.” He beckoned her on. “Why did you steal my ring?”
She threw her head back with a sigh, then paced across the room. “Do you not ever feel caged and long to do . . . something? Anything to feel alive. To feel that thrill.”
“I can honestly say I have not.”
Mrs. Gillingham looked at the floor. “In a way, I pity you.”
He opened his mouth to interject.
“But I also envy you.”
“Mrs. Gillingham,” he continued, trying to keep their conversation moving. Spending more time in this strange lady’s townhouse was not something he really wished to do. Funds were the driving force behind all his actions right now. “You said there was something I could do to get my money back.”
Her eyes turned practically sardonic. “So, you are interested?”
“My interest is solely in acquiring six hundred pounds. But,” he added, clarifying, “I will not break the law to do it.”
“I don’t think it will come to that.”
“Then what is it?”
Her eyes took on an intrigued gleam. “How about this? I will send you a post tomorrow with instructions for you to follow.”
“Why can you not just tell me now?”
“I want to be sure I have everything set up for you.”
Leonard rubbed the back of his neck, shifting on his feet. “I have a feeling I will very much regret this.”
“Really?” Her pink lips curled into the twisted smile he was already coming to recognize. “I am quite looking forward to it.”
Heaven help him.