Free Touch of Rogue by Mia Marlowe Page A

London with her, just in case. She hated to part with them for an unnecessary extravagance like a ball gown.
    She was relying on the more costly pieces Algernon had given her to tide her over if she couldn’t find the last dagger in time. Her ruby necklace would support the work of Mrs. Osgood’s school for a couple years, so she didn’t count that piece in her available stash of portable wealth.
    “You were no help at all in there,” Julianne said through clenched teeth as soon as she and Jacob bundled back into her coach. “I might as well have had a sack of potatoes beside me. You left me to do all the talking.”
    “So I could do all the listening,” Jacob said smoothly, rapping on the ceiling of the coach with the head of his walking stick to signal the driver they were ready to go. Then he drew the coach curtains, leaned back, and shut his eyes. “A man’s ears close when his mouth is in motion. He’s busy thinking about what he’ll say next instead of listening to the other fellow.”
    He made sense, but she didn’t want to admit it. “Well, a woman has more experience in listening while she speaks because if she didn’t, she’d never get a word in edgewise. And what about that Sir Malcolm thinking the blades should have gone to Algernon’s ruddy heir? As though my stepson gave two figs for his father or anything he cared about. Algernon would spin in his grave if he knew—” She bit back the rest of what threatened to tumble out. “All right. If you were listening so intently, what did you hear that I didn’t?”
    “That Digory is willing to bend the rules for you by inviting us to an event normally reserved for members only. This will work to our advantage.”
    “How so?” She wished he’d look at her. It was disconcerting to converse with a man who might drift off to sleep at any moment. “I’m still relegated to the parlor for tea and tedious talk with the women while you—”
    “Do what you hired me to do,” Jacob said. “Do you think I won’t share every bit of what I learn there with you?”
    “Won’t Digory be expecting you to and not be as forthcoming on that account?”
    “I think that depends on how much he wants to see the dagger.” The coach was a small one and Jacob’s shoulders were uncommonly broad. He opened his eyes, sat up straight, and draped an arm around her over the back of the seat so they fit together more easily on the forward-facing squab. “I won’t be as quick to offer it up as you were.”
    She eyed him narrowly. “If you wanted me to do something differently, you might have said so.”
    “Never mind. You did fine, Julianne. Truly.” His hand grazed her shoulder in soft slow circles. She ought to make him stop but it felt so wickedly good. Agitation drained out of her with each small caress.
    “But if the dagger is to leave your safe, I want it with me,” she said with emphasis.
    “Fear not.” He slipped a finger under her chin to turn her face toward him. “The dagger isn’t going anywhere. It will remain in the safe.”
    “But you said—”
    “We’d be delighted to attend his soirée.” He leaned closer and she inhaled his male scent, rich with spicy bergamot and sandalwood. “I didn’t promise to bring your dagger. He only assumed I would. Among my less than savory associates, there is a skilled artisan who can create a reproduction for us. Your actual dagger will be in no danger.”
    His gray eyes darkened from ice to burnished pewter as he gazed down at her. His mouth was so close she could almost taste it. She swallowed with difficulty.
    It wasn’t the dagger that was in danger just now. It was her determination not to become involved with a man who was in her employ.
    “But if he learns the dagger isn’t the real one, then ... then how will you pry any secrets from him?”
    “My associate is very good at what he does, but if by some chance Digory is smarter than he looks, I’m not without a bit of skill myself. How does