Chapter Eleven
Berating herself under her breath, Franny rolled onto her side and shielded her eyes from the morning sun blasting through the window.
She had every intention of waking every few hours to patrol the grounds but instead had lazily slept through the night as if poor Papa and Harry weren’t injured and her life-long dreams weren’t in jeopardy.
Yawning, she stretched her stiff body, reveling in the exquisite release of tension as her muscles elongated.
Today, she required an extra-long calisthenics session.
But first, she needed food, coffee, and enough energy to get out of bed.
She stretched again, perhaps too enthusiastically, because she tumbled off the sofa, crashing onto the unforgiving floor.
Her head barely missed hitting the edge of her desk, and her torso twisted.
One foot remained on the sofa, exposing her private area to the air.
“Ouch! Bloody bollocks,” she grumbled.
Her office door flew open, and Edward Robinson’s massive body filled the doorway. His eyes widened, and then he chortled.
Her cheeks burning, she dropped her leg, sat up, rearranged her chemise, and crossed her arms over her chest. Even though he had seen the bodice of her chemise before, she wanted to die from embarrassment.
Boxing in a chemise was hardly indecent.
But a man seeing you in your undergarments because you were sleeping half naked was humiliating, especially when said undergarments were not covering your body parts.
What if he had seen her cunny while she’d been lying there, arms and legs akimbo?
If only she could disappear right this second, so she never had to face Edward Robinson again.
“I slept on the floor,” she lied.
Edward smirked. “I can see that.”
Obviously, he’d heard the damnable crash and was being facetious. What a smug arse! “What do you want, Runner Robinson?”
“Call me Edward. Get dressed. We have a busy day of investigating ahead of us.” Grinning as if he’d just won a major award, he closed the door.
Blinking, Franny tried to clear the morning fog from her brain. The reality of her situation hit her with an exhilarating thud. She was about to investigate with an honest-to-God Bow Street Runner.
On second thought, who cared that he might have seen her girl bits? She had a job to do. As if a strike of lightning animated her, she bolted to standing and threw her dress over her head.
*
Mr. Robinson barely spoke to Franny as he hailed them a hackney.
Even now, sitting across from her, staring out the window, he was oddly quiet.
If he was humiliated because he had seen too much of her, he needed to get over it.
It was her body, and she was completely at peace with what had happened.
Well, almost at peace with it.
But no one, not even Josie, had ever seen her down there. Her cheeks heated and she gasped as if someone had punched her in the stomach.
Nope, not at all over it. Not if she lived to be one hundred. If they were going to work together, they needed to establish rules, which included no barging into her office without knocking, and this was a good time to make her boundaries known.
As she mentally organized her thoughts, she stared at his profile. His lashes occasionally fluttered. The dark stubble overtaking his chin and jaw was quite masculine and so distracting that his presence muddled her thinking. Perhaps this particular conversation could wait.
“Where are we going?” she asked. Dare she tell him she was starving?
“We are here.” He slapped the roof with his palm.
“Where is here?” she asked.
“My residence. As you pointed out last night, a lawman requires a pistol.”
Since sarcasm laced his tone, she didn’t believe for a second they were there solely to retrieve his pistol.
However, her overwhelming hunger and lingering embarrassment kept her from badgering him further.
She exited the carriage and followed him to the front door of a lodging house, sandwiched between charming storefronts.
They climbed a flight of narrow stairs to the third-floor landing. Edward unlocked a door and held it wide, inviting Franny to enter in front of him.
She hadn’t expected the arrogant man to have a cozy home, but it was exceedingly warm and inviting.
On one side of the entranceway, an archway led to a room that appeared to be both a study and a parlor.
Cream-colored flowers and swirling emerald vines adorned the rich brown wallpaper.
Plushily upholstered furniture was arranged in front of a brick hearth.
The fire was almost extinguished, but the embers still emitted a glow.
Dozens of leather-bound books filled the shelves and the stacks of papers on his desk were neat.
Edward sauntered down a hallway, leaving her standing beneath the archway.
Once she lost sight of him, she uncomfortably shifted her weight from foot to foot.
She’d never been alone with a man in his home, and she had no idea if she should follow him, stay where he’d left her, or make herself comfortable in one of the big chairs.
Edward’s deep voice carried down the hall. “Good morning, pretty girl. Did you miss me?”
What the hell! Who was he speaking to? Did Edward Robinson have a mistress? How dare he strut about like an unbridled stallion.
Her original instincts about him had been correct. The man was an arrogant arse.
Obscene kissing noises coming from the end of the hallway made Franny gag. A man oozing potent masculinity should be a sensual kisser. Instead, he smacked his lips as if he was a clown making love to a brick wall.
“Come meet Miss Frances Valentine,” Edward said.
How in the devil was she to face his lover after feeling warm and mushy in his presence?
And worse, he’d seen her naked! Still…oh, confound her feminine curiosity to hell.
She was no coward, but this entire morning had been too much.
This might be one of those moments when being wise was better than being brave.
She headed for the door, but Edward cut her off, a ball of orange and cream fluff in his arms.
“Zigzag, meet Miss Valentine. Miss Valentine, meet Zigzag.”
The cat looked at Franny, batted her arm, and let out a vociferous meow.
Some feeling she dared not identify spread over her and Franny found herself giggling at the imperious animal. “Meow to you too, Zigzag.” She clasped one little paw between her thumb and forefinger and shook.
“Are you hungry?” Edward asked.
“Famished.” Franny rubbed her stomach.
“I was talking to Zigzag,” Edward said, his expression quite earnest.
Franny would not fall for his taunting. “Never mess with a hungry redhead, Mr. Robinson.”
“Call me Edward.” He chuckled. “Follow me, milady,” he said as he performed an exaggerated bow while hugging the well-fed cat to his chest.
*
Thank heavens Franny no longer subsisted on a training diet of bone broth and eggs. She licked the sweet honey from her fingers. “Your landlady is a superior baker.”
“Yes, indeed.” Edward pushed his chair back and stretched his legs long. He had eaten half of the six honey cakes his landlady had set out. Franny had enthusiastically devoured the other three.
Now she poured herself a third cup of coffee. “How many people live in this building?” For some inexplicable reason, she wanted to know everything about the man sitting across from her in his tidy kitchen.
“Mrs. Benson, myself, Zigzag, and Mr. Glasgow, a young tutor, who lives on the second floor.”
How pleasant it must be to live in a lovely building with Mrs. Benson cooking and cleaning. Franny and Papa’s first-floor flat was slightly bigger than Edward’s but not nearly as well-furnished, and Franny couldn’t bake bread, biscuits, or cakes to save her life.
Edward waved his hand in front of her face, interrupting her wool gathering. “Tell me about these men who showed up at the gymnasium and asked you and Josephine to fight for them.”
“Do you think they could be behind our misfortunes?” she asked.
Edward shrugged. “Since they showed up right before the fire, I’d like to question them.”
Franny quite agreed. “Their names are Bear and Whale. Whale didn’t speak at all. I suspect he might be hired muscle. Bear said I can find him at The Purple Rabbit. If my memory serves me, Bear was a decent pugilist about a decade ago.”
“The Purple Rabbit is a gambling den in Whitechapel,” Edward said.
“I thought it was a brothel.” Her cheeks heated as if she were a bluenose saying an indecent word instead of Fiery Franny, an intrepid pugilist. She simply wasn’t as confident as she’d once been, thanks to her confounding cowardice. A pang of regret squeezed her chest.
Edward steepled his fingers under his chin. Franny hadn’t noticed before, but purple bruises marbled his knuckles.
“After we call on this Bear and Whale, I want to speak to your neighbor,” he said.
“I wager Vicar Williams is behind all of this,” Franny hissed.
“I’m not convinced it was him, although I never rule anyone out until I thoroughly question them.” He scraped his fingers through his chin stubble. “The truth is, I want to speak to one of his parishioners.”
“Mrs. Brown is a sanctimonious fool.” Franny pursed her lips and looked down her nose. “Have you ever heard such language?”
Edward frowned as if he hadn’t found her impression the least bit humorous. “I wasn’t speaking of her. I can’t stop thinking about her daughter-in-law, Jane. Someone is beating her.”
Franny had forgotten about the poor woman while Edward had been consumed with worry. Perhaps she was heartless and Edward was heroic? Since she admired lionhearted individuals, she wanted to reach across the table and gently run her finger over his bruises.
“I’m assuming you would like to look in on your father and your friend today?” He drew out the word friend as he stared into Franny’s eyes. How odd. Did he think she didn’t care about Harry, or did he assume she and Harry were more than friends?
Taking her new role as investigator seriously, Franny nonchalantly sipped coffee while trying to read Edward’s mind.
Unfortunately, his gaze was so intense that she suspected he was simultaneously trying to glean her thoughts. She tried not to think about how handsome he was. Or how much she liked his thick lashes and brows. Or how strong and masculine his hands were. She settled on pondering his fresh bruises.
He opened and closed his fists. “You should see the dunderheads.”
Egad! She was correct. He could read her mind. Her cheeks heated at the downright humiliating things she’d been thinking.
“They will think before coming after one of your loved ones again. Their faces look much worse than my hands.”
As she suspected, he’d sustained the injuries protecting Papa.
He grinned, and her heart swooped low and then glided high. “I tried to see if either of them was missing a button, but it was much too dark, and I was more concerned about protecting your father.”
Of the latter, she was glad.
“First things first. I need to stop by my office.”
Franny squealed as if she were a child receiving a new toy. “I’ve never seen a real courthouse. Is it exciting? Is it dangerous? Are the criminals shackled?”
“Most of the trials take place at the Marlborough Street Magistrate’s Court,” he said. “Besides, I’m afraid you must wait outside for me. I shan’t be long.”
Before she could ask him why she wasn’t permitted to enter the Bow Street office, he stood. “Make yourself at home in my parlor. I’m going to wash up and change shirts.”
How unfair that he could clean himself up while Franny remained unkempt. At least she’d taken time to fix her hair. Not that it mattered because, as usual, the heavy strands were tumbling from her twist. She brushed the long curl tickling her cheek behind her ear.
Edward closed his eyes for a moment and sighed as if exasperated. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stomped from the kitchen.
What in the hell had she done wrong? She’d been disappointed when he said she couldn’t enter his office, but she hadn’t complained. She hadn’t even pulled a face. It was also unfair that Edward could read her mind when she had no idea what he was thinking.
“He’s a bloody pain in the arse,” Franny mumbled under her breath as she returned to the cozy parlor, Zigzag at her heels.
She plucked a copy of The Mysteries of Ferney Castle from the shelf and sank into one of the chairs.
The second her arse hit the soft cushion, her frustration dissipated.
Good God, she was snuggling into a chair that smelled like Edward’s masculine cedary scent.
Zigzag curled into a ball at her feet and immediately fell asleep.
Franny opened the book and tried to concentrate, but it was pointless. She read the first page three times as she fretted about Papa and Harry.
At last, Edward ambled into the room, his scruff shaved clean, his white shirt crisp, and his scent fresh and delicious.
Turning his back to her, he gathered some items from his desk.
Once he was finished, he removed his blue greatcoat from the hook and slid into it.
She swallowed saliva as she shamelessly admired the line of his well-sculpted backside.
It seemed the arrogant, heroic Edward Robinson had tunneled his way beneath her skin, and she simply could not allow this to happen. No man, no matter how attractive he was, would distract Franny from her goals.