Free Whitechapel Wagers 02 - Wanton Wager by Christy Carlyle Page B

other woman he had ever met.
    Her voice was quiet, almost as if she didn’t wish him to hear the words she spoke.
    “She informed the administration that I am Lord Ashdowne’s doxy.”
    Her gaze did not waiver from his as she said the word, and she tilted her chin a fraction, as if daring him to look away, as if he might believe Lady Harriet’s claim.
    But it was nonsense. The Ashdowne siblings seemed determined to bring misery to the Hamiltons, and it enraged him.
    Will moved to retrieve his hat. Surely there was something he could say to Matron Marley to convince her to reinstate Ada. He would deal with Lady Harriet Ashdowne later.
    As he turned, he felt Ada’s hand on him, small but firm against his coat sleeve.
    “Where are you going?”
    “To speak to Matron Marley.”
    “No. It’s for the best. You needn’t speak to Matron Marley.”
    The shock of her touch nearly equaled his surprise at her calm regarding the situation.
    “You no longer wish to be a nurse?”
    Her answer was instant and emphatic. “Yes, very much, but most of all I wish to find my sister. My worry for her consumes me. I am little use as a nurse or anything else until I find her.”
    Ada smiled at him then—a tender, affectionate expression that stole his breath. “But thank you.”
    Beyond her beauty and strength, Will glimpsed a woman who looked at him and saw more—more than a wounded man, more than a wretch who had come to Whitechapel for dishonorable reasons. Her gaze searched him, sifted his very soul, and seemed to find something there worth cherishing.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    “Is he a lord as well then?”
    Her mother’s words echoed in Ada’s mind as she settled into the plush first class train carriage and knew the first moments of contentment she’d felt in days. Taking action, going to look for Beth, felt right. And she was not alone. Whatever his reasons, however long he would abide with her, Mr. Selsby was her ally, and one she sorely needed.
    Looking around at the details of finely-stitched upholstery, polished wood and brass, and the pretty little blanket that had been provided to warm her, she felt a bit like a grand lady. And it was easy to imagine Mr. Selsby as a lord It wasn’t just to do with his fine clothing and proper manners. Despite whatever injury caused him to rely on his cane and stiffen in pain when he thought no one was looking, he carried himself with an air of confidence and authority that, Ada noticed, made other men make way for him. He and his sister had mentioned his time in the army, and Ada thought he must have commanded men.
    He certainly commanded her attention. Though they had the carriage to themselves at the moment, Mr. Selsby had very properly chosen to sit across from Ada rather than by her side. Her disappointment at not having him near was only alleviated by the prospect of studying him as he read The Illustrated London News.
    She’d noticed his hands the first night she met him, and not just because of the scars. His fingers were long and elegant, and she imagined they would have served him well as a surgeon, if that was what he’d hoped to be. She could easily imagine him as a doctor. Beyond the pain she saw in his eyes, there was kindness. And as Vicky constantly reminded, he had a very pleasant voice, just the kind to put a wary patient at ease.
    Though he sat up, back straight, his long legs encroached across the space between them, and Ada relished the feel of them pressing against her skirt. She inched her boots out toward him, her feet on either side of his. The desire to touch him, to draw closer to him, was overwhelming.
    He moved the newspaper in his hands and she could finally glimpse his eyes over the edge. Gaze moving over the lines of type, he did not seem nearly as distracted by her presence as she was by his. If only he would lower the newspaper a bit more, she could study his lips. Though they would prove the most distracting of all. She knew what his lips could do.
    “My