Chapter Ten
The night air bit at the tips of Leonard’s ears. The last days of September in London warmed with the light of day, but when the sun slipped beneath the sky, the air took on a horrid crispness.
“Why are you doing this to me?” Leonard lifted his shoulders so the cuff of his coat covered the exposed skin on his neck. Not only did he not want to be walking about with this woman at night of all things, he did not particularly like being forced into the chilled night air.
Mrs. Gillingham kept her gaze ahead as he trailed after her. “I am not doing anything to you. You are just a hermit who doesn’t like to have any fun.” With this, she threw a teasing grin over her shoulder.
He only sank lower beneath his coat. “You could have just given me my money back so we could have both moved on with our lives. This is a completely superfluous situation.”
They neared a street corner a block from Leonard’s townhome, but instead of turning or crossing the street, she came to a halt, reaching back and putting a hand to Leonard’s chest as she leaned forward to gaze down the street.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” he ground out.
“Honora,” she reminded him, her eyes still watching the street.
“Need you keep touching me?”
She chewed her lip as one side of her mouth lifted. “I suppose I don’t need to.”
He waited for her hand to move, but instead, it just lifted with each of his frustrated breaths. “Then why have you not removed it?”
“You said need. Nothing was mentioned about want.”
Leonard took her hand in his just long enough to pull it away from him before he dropped it. “I will ask you to refrain from such things for the rest of this—”
“Tryst?” she supplied.
“No.” He ran a hand over his coat, mentally removing any remnant of her touch. “That was not even remotely close to what I was thinking.”
Carriage wheels clattering down the street caught Leonard’s attention, and Mrs. Gillingham finally turned to look at him. “Our ride has arrived.”
He stood in silence, his mouth in a firm line, as the carriage rattled to a stop in front of them. The young man at the front hopped down and opened the door.
“Thank you, Jeffrey.” Mrs. Gillingham stepped inside, taking the seat facing forward.
Leonard followed, taking the seat across from her. “Where in the devil are we going?”
“Touchy.” With an air of unbothered indifference, Mrs. Gillingham pulled her reticule into her lap and produced a small mirror, which she flicked open and began inspecting herself. “You know, Mr. Stanton, I think this will be very good for you.”
He looked out the window, watching gas lamps come and go as they rattled by. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” Leonard heard the quick snap of her little mirror as she shut it before she slipped it back into her reticule. “You are much too stuffy, and I fear you have reached little to none of your potential enjoyment in life.”
“And what makes you say that?” His words were monotone, but he knew if he didn’t answer, she would only continue on anyway. Besides, she wasn’t wrong.
“Just look at you.” She threw a hand up, then dipped it down to encompass his entire person. “I have never seen a more miserable person.”
“Perhaps I have a reason to be miserable.” He turned his head toward her. “Have you ever considered that?”
A puff of air slipped past her lips. “Everyone has a reason to consider themselves miserable. But that doesn’t mean you can’t try and make the most of things.”
Leonard scratched his chin, looking back at the window. “Coming from someone who has chosen to embrace the lowest morals.”
“I know you are trying to ward me off with your unpleasantness.”
“And yet you keep trying.”
“Let us say I am your guardian angel. Perhaps this is your one last chance in life to change before it’s too late.”
He rolled his eyes, though she didn’t have the benefit of seeing his annoyance as he kept his gaze to the window. “Too late for what?”
“For happiness.”
Her words baffled him. Why did she care if he was happy? “If you are my guardian angel, then you have a very interesting tactic for getting your way.” He faced her. “You stole from me. And now you are dragging me along on whatever this little—” He flicked his hand between them.
“Tryst,” she supplied, her smile widening.
“Adventure . . .” He punctuated the word to make himself clear. “Is,” he finished. “Shouldn’t my guardian angel be helping me out in more moral matters?” Like helping him navigate his life with his father and brother.
“Certainly.” Mrs. Gillingham tapped her chin. “Please, share what burdens you and I shall do my best to help.”
He pulled his jaw to the side as he gritted his teeth. “I think I will pass, thank you.”
“Why are you in London by yourself this time of year?” Her smile faded, but not entirely. “It is no longer the season, you are not married, you do not seem to have an occupation, and yet, you are still here.”
“My personal life is not on the table, Mrs. Gillingham. I will do what I must to get my money and be done with this . . . situation.”
“I really do think the word tryst would be more accurate for our time spent together. You are a handsome young man, and I am a handsome young woman. It seems only right that something comes of this.”
“Yes, my money. But that is all that will be required of you.”
And then Leonard saw her chest jerk as she clamped down on her lips.
With arms crossed over his chest, he turned toward her. “Are you laughing at me?”
“Me?” She put a hand on her chest. “No. Never. I would not degrade a man with such a callous reaction.”
“You were.” He narrowed an eye. “Am I entertaining to you? Is that why I am being dragged along like this?”
“Well—” She leaned to look out her window. “I must admit you bring a bright spot to my day.”
“How very strange, since I do everything within my power to be the opposite.”
“Oh, we are here.” She tapped the window with her gloved finger, then snatched her reticule from the seat.
Leonard nearly gaped at her blatant ignoring of his comment. Instead, he was forced to face whatever it was she had planned for them this evening. “And where are we exactly?”
“Just a quick rendezvous with my . . .” She paused with her hand lightly pressed against the glass. “Friend.”
The coachman opened the door, and Mrs. Gillingham flitted down the steps as if this was a regular occurrence for her. Leonard pinched his nose before begrudgingly following, and when his boots touched the solid ground, he looked about their surroundings.
There was nothing spectacular about it. They seemed to be in a small park. A walking path wove beneath a bridge. It was highly treed, offering lots of places to find seclusion—which was likely why they were at this park in particular.
“Are we taking a stroll?” The lazy tone of Leonard’s voice only seemed to make Mrs. Gillingham gleeful. What was with this woman?
“Not in the way you think.” She adjusted her reticule on her wrist, then nodded toward the entrance. “We are meeting someone.” With that, she strode ahead, making Leonard follow after her with a groan.
Upon entering the park, Mrs. Gillingham had every appearance of being a young woman on a leisurely stroll.
But Leonard knew her well enough—much to his chagrin—to know otherwise.
She was surveying her surroundings, taking note of every sound and corner as she walked.
Her head would tilt one way, then turn and look another, all under the guise of innocent interest.
Once they reached a fork in the path, Mrs. Gillingham walked to the left, whistling a soft tune. Soon, an answering tune sounded from behind a tree to their left.
A wiry man of indescribable age appeared from behind the thick trunk. Leonard took several quick steps until he was beside Mrs. Gillingham, putting himself between her and the newcomer. “I’m flattered, Mr. Stanton,” she said with a grin in her voice. “But I know this man.”
Leonard cleared his throat, his neck heating. “I assumed as much.” What had he been thinking? She was the one running this charade. But she had asked him to protect her, and something deep within him felt the need to do just that. He ran a hand over his lapel. “I was only following you.”
“Ah. Of course.” She nodded, then walked toward the man by the tree, whose clothes fit decently and were of fair quality.
But something about the way he held himself set Leonard off his ease.
“Good evening, Mr. Pratt.” Mrs. Gillingham pulled her hand and her reticule to her middle. “I have been looking for you.”
“Yes, I received your letter.” The man appeared older now that Leonard had a better look at him. His knobby fingers twitched at his side. “You know better than to be sending me letters, Gillingham.”
“Mrs. Gillingham, please. I’m a lady now.”
The man bent slightly at his middle, wheezing out a laugh. “Little Honora? A lady? You can pretend to look the part, but you ain’t foolin’ me.”
Leonard came alongside her again. “Can we move on and get this over with, please? I do not wish to be out any later than necessary.”
“Yes, Pratt,” she said, nodding her approval. “Let us move this along. Do you know where it is?”
Mr. Pratt lifted his chin and scratched the wiry hair on his neck. “Aye, I do.”
Mrs. Gillingham huffed a breath. “Then where is it?”
Mr. Pratt looked at Leonard, narrowing his eyes. “What’s he doing here?”
“He is my protection,” she added, not missing a beat.
This only amused Mr. Pratt further, throwing his head back with another peal of laughter. He brought his head up. “This man?” He jerked a thumb toward Leonard. “You must be kidding. He looks like he couldn’t hurt a fly.”
Mrs. Gillingham spared Leonard a quick glance. “He is quite capable, I can assure you.”
“The only thing he looks capable of is frowning at me until I’m so miserable I run off.” Mr. Pratt laughed harder, then addressed Leonard. “This lady don’t need your help, sir. So why don’t you save your time and sanity and go off to some fancy ball. This ain’t the life for you.”