Chapter Four
Julian looked down at the message in his hand and back to the street where he was to meet Miss Bantham.
Was this a trick?
He worried he’d be rolled for his watch on this street. Surely a lady of good breeding would not be meeting him in a place like this. It would be like her to send him to his demise as a prank. Or to do away with him altogether.
Before he had the chance to get back into his carriage, another conveyance pulled up behind his and the lady in question hopped down on her own without any assistance from the coachmen.
She was dressed in a simple gown of sage green that suited her coloring. If the woman wasn’t scowling every time he saw her, she might be considered pretty. As it were, she was interesting, verging on daunting with the pinched glare on her face.
“Good day,” he said, planning to pretend he came to this part of London every day and wasn’t the least bit apprehensive for their safety.
“Good day to you, my lord.” She pressed her lips together and tugged at her glove before looking him in the eye. “I must apologize for my behavior at the ball.”
He couldn’t help the grin that pulled up one side of his mouth. She had worded it intentionally, probably hoping he was too daft to notice.
“You said you must apologize, not that you wished to. It leads me to believe you are being forced to make the apology and do not actually mean it.”
Her eyes went wide, and her mouth fell open, either with surprise that he had figured her out, or offense. With a huff she closed her eyes and spoke.
“Very well. I apologize for my behavior.”
“Why do I feel you are struggling not to utter the word ‘but’ after that?” He pointed at her. “You are thinking it, aren’t you?”
“Are you going to accept my apology or not? It will be the last one you get from me, my lord.”
“Fine. I will accept.” He glanced around hoping that if he agreed quickly, they could move on with their task and get off the street before they were assaulted. Even someone of his size and stature was unnerved.
“Good. We have much to do before we leave. You need to be fitted with the proper tools and such. I am here to assist.”
Julian silently wished Lord Darlington would have accompanied him on this mission rather than his salty niece. It was clear she saw their outing as a punishment. But it didn’t seem fair that he be punished as well.
Still, he followed her into a nearby shop without a word.
“Good day, Mr. Davies, my friend is in need of some tools for our next dig. We will be leaving in a week which won’t give us time for any custom instruments.”
“Not to worry, miss. I always keep a few extras of what you need on hand in case you come calling.”
“Smart man.” She tapped her temple and waited for the man to pull a few things from behind the counter.
Julian knew he was already in danger of being expelled from the expedition, for he didn’t know the names of these items let alone know how to use them.
She picked up a few of the items and weighed them in her grip for a moment before moving on to the next tool.
She waved him over. “Which of these handles feels more comfortable?” She held the item out with the wooden handle facing him. Actually, she pointed it toward his hand. His left hand.
How could she have known?
Rather than make a big deal over the matter, he simply gripped the two options and made his selection.
For a moment, he thought she might select the one he didn’t prefer instead of the one he did, but after the smallest hesitation, she placed his choice to one side with a few other items she’d already selected. A number of brushes and an item he knew to be a small pick.
He’d purchased many of them over the years for his mines, so he knew what they were at least.
When she seemed satisfied with her pile of items, she nodded to the man.
“And a box to hold everything.”
“Very well. Do I send the bill to Darlington House?”
“No. Lord Mel-villain—apologies, Melville will see to the bill.”
He let out a breath and nodded in agreement before taking the wooden box with the integrated handle and following her out of the shop.
If he hadn’t already been sure her slip of the tongue with his name was intentional, the smug smile on her lips would have proven it. And for a moment too long he stared at those lips. The tiny freckle that rested on the bow of her upper lip. It seemed to be taunting him.
He cleared his throat and looked away as if anything else was more interesting.
When his mind had cleared somewhat, he recalled the other thing she’d said to the shop owner. The matter of the bill for the tools.
If he was facing the loss of his mines, he didn’t need additional bills. While he had made peace with the fact he would marry someone proper to meet his father’s requirements, there was no guarantee his version of proper would meet his father’s conditions.
That would be the worst possible scenario, to submit to his father’s plans only to still lose everything. His father must be having a great laugh at how well he’d managed to contort his only son to do his bidding.
Well, Julian wasn’t shackled yet. Until the time came, he would enjoy every moment of his freedom. So long as he didn’t get his throat slit in the dregs of London where she was leading him to another shop close by.
This one was a tailor, though not for evening clothes. The finest thing the man had in his window was a solid, blue waistcoat made from a sturdy fabric rather than the silk one Julian was currently wearing. Everything else seemed to have been made for a purpose beyond that of avoiding dances at society balls.
“You’ll want loose-fitting clothing to allow movement,” Miss Bantham explained.
It felt rather odd having a woman helping him with his clothing. Perhaps even intimate. When Julian selected a wife, would she accompany him to the tailor?
Miss Bantham looked him up and down, no doubt assessing his size, but he felt an undercurrent of excitement at being the object of her appraisal. He also felt as if he had been given the right to appraise her right back.
She was tall, which he’d known already, but now that she was standing so close, he was able to see exactly how tall she was. Taller than any other woman he’d ever known.
Was this the reason she wasn’t married already?
He knew how some men got flustered in his presence when he towered over them. Their insecurities pricked. He imagined a short man, or even one of average size would be intimidated by a woman who looked down at them.
He thought it ridiculous, but then he wasn’t in their position, so who was he to say how he might think if he’d matured to be short of stature rather than the giant he was.
While she was taller than many men, she was quite clearly a woman. There would be no mistaking that. Her breasts filled out the neckline of her serviceable green gown. While the waistline was elevated, it hinted at her narrow waist before sloping outward again to caress her hips and luscious backside.
And, of course, he was now thinking about her backside. Isn’t that where his thoughts always strayed?
At the sound of her throat clearing, he snapped his gaze up to find her scowling as always, but with a hint of confusion this time.
Good. He’d baffled her. It was only fair because she had certainly perplexed him.
He didn’t know what it was about her that both intrigued and irritated him, but it was no matter. She was merely a means to an end. He needed to get through her to earn his place on the expedition to Egypt.
He would charm her into agreeing. He was charming after all. He only had to make sure she noticed.
How difficult could it be?
*
Lord Melville madeLainey want to growl, but she didn’t wish to frighten poor Mr. Harper. The tailor was already wary of her since she was possibly the only lady to come into his shop to purchase clothing for herself.
But today’s visit was not for her.
“Mr. Harper makes the finest clothes for everyday work. Over the years he has modified a few things for warmer climes.” Not that Lord Melville would be needing those, because he would not be going to Egypt. So far it had been a cool spring, and Scotland was sure to be even cooler in the North.
“Lord Melville needs clothing for working outside. We will be working on a site in the Highlands. We leave next week. Can you outfit him properly by then?”
“Of course, miss.” The man looked Melville up and down and swallowed. “Don’t know that I ever had a right lord in my shop afore.”
“I assure you he is no one special,” she said, earning a smirk from Melville.
“I am built the same as other men, I assure you.” Melville held out his arms as if to prove his statement, and then added, “Just much larger in every way.”
He quirked a brow at her which made her think he’d made some jest, but she couldn’t be sure. What he’d said was true. He was larger than any other man she knew. But he was also wrong. He wasn’t the same in any way.
She’d noticed he was tall years ago. It was the reason he had first caught her attention. But now she knew it was more than his height that made him different than other men.
He’d no doubt never worked a day in his life, yet his shoulders were broad, his chest wide. His stomach was without the swell or softness other lords covered with straining, brightly-colored waistcoats.
She conducted her evaluation of his frame with quick glances rather than staring as he had done to her. Whatever had he been looking at when he’d watched her walk away? Perhaps he sought evidence of a pointed tail to match her evil behavior when it came to dealing with him.
Standing by the door, she watched quietly as Mr. Harper took Melville’s measurements. With the lord’s gaze turned away from her, she was able to study him more closely. Without fear of him knowing.
His near-black hair was short. It no longer touched his collar as it had five years ago. Perhaps this was part of his disguise to seem less like a rogue and more respectable. She would not fall prey to that trick.
She looked up from the enticing way his buttocks sloped at the sound of a chuckle and found him watching her in the reflection of the looking glass.
Instantly her cheeks went hot, the heat quickly rushing down her neck and chest. He’d caught her looking at his…
Just as she’d caught him.
However, her reaction was completely different than his. While she had glared at him, he seemed to preen in her attentions. His blue eyes flared in excitement.
Men were strange creatures. Lords even more so, apparently. This one, clearly the strangest of all. He made her equal parts angry and fascinated.
When he winked at her she decided it was perhaps not quite equal parts. And she was appalled to find the spark of excitement meant she was more fascinated with the man than angry.
What she should be focusing on was getting her revenge. She considered having Mr. Harper make his clothing too small, but he didn’t know if Lord Mel-villain would withhold payment.
If she knew the man had any interest in her physically, she might feign an attraction on her part, but she would surely get in over her head in such a ruse.
For now, she would have to shore up her defenses. There was no way she would allow him to go with them to Egypt. He was far too distracting.
She’d fallen for his charms years ago. She’d not let it happen again.