Free Somebody To Love by Kate Rothwell Page B

waited.
    She clicked her tongue impatiently. “It is still early, well before midnight, and I do not think I’ll require—”
    “He’ll have a fit if I don’t.”
    “Mr. Calverson?”
    “No, not him. Want me to fetch your bag?”
    He was sedate, but as stubborn as Araminta herself on a good night. Since this wasn’t one of those nights, she gave up. “I shall collect my belongings and be ready to walk home in five minutes.”
    “Meet you at the door, then.”
    He paused. “Do you mind Mr. Kane thinks I’m courting you? ’Cause I would. Court you.”
    She felt the stirrings of a headache. “I understand. But please, it’s unnecessary to feel you must—”
    “Like to,” he said.
    “That’s extremely kind of you, er, Hobnail, but I think not.”
    He shifted his feet and spat. “Huh. Change your mind, tell me, eh?”
    “Of course.”
    Really, she reflected, turning him down had not been nearly as awkward as it might have been. And when they walked toward her house, she made a couple of cheery remarks about the people up and loitering on the streets.
    Hobnail answered with, “When I worked at night, met all sorts, most of them running away from me.”
    “Yes, I can imagine they think you’re a dangerous sort of a fellow.”
    He seemed to think that was particularly funny.
    When they lapsed into silence, it felt companionable rather than stiff.

     
    Araminta had just fallen asleep at two in the morning when a light tapping at her front door brought her abruptly upright.
    She yanked on a dressing gown over her nightgown and thumped down the stairs in the dark. Had someone fallen ill? Or died?
    When she tugged open her door, Griffin Calverson stood on her doorstep, pristine again in his dark evening suit, complete with wool coat, gloves and silk top hat. He’d donned an overcoat to ward off the chill. Protected only by her thin gown and robe, Araminta shivered and stared at him through the wisps of cold fog that had settled on the city.
    He peered over her shoulder into the dark house. “May I come in? I do not wish to harm your reputation by standing on your doorstep.”
    She wordlessly opened the door wider. He slipped past her into the hallway.
    As he sauntered into the front parlor, he pulled off his coat and hat. He turned and held them out to Araminta. She took them, surprised by the coat’s bulk. After a moment’s thought, she flung them onto the sofa.
    “That will do.” He sounded amused. “Tell me what you plan to do.”
    “What are you talking about, Mr. Calverson?”
    “Your visit to my hotel the other day. I know you said you would pretend you did not overhear those men in the basement, but I want to make sure you’re not getting into some other sort of trouble. You or your friend.”
    Annoyance flooded her. In four hours she would have to walk back to Kane’s establishmnt and begin her day’s work.
    She pretended to give a wide, audible yawn.
    “Very nice,” Griffin remarked.
    “Can’t this wait until regular calling hours?”
    “I am afraid not. It is best if Mr. Kane not know that you and I are acquainted. And I would rather not be seen visiting you in your home during regular hours. Your reputation, as I mentioned.”
    “Oh.” She wondered that he was jesting. Didn’t he know what people usually thought of her? She was too aware of the world’s notions about a woman like her. “It is too late—about Mr. Kane, I mean. He came into my kitchen and asked me several questions about you. I told him that I barely knew you.”
    Even in the dark she could see how he folded his arms and stared down his nose at her. “I am still convinced you should leave Kane’s establishment.”
    “No. I can’t.”
    “Come now, you do not require his money.”
    The quiet, canny note in his voice told her he knew about her private funds. The money she loathed.
    The man and his encroaching ways almost frightened her, and she allowed her temper to take over. “There is no reason for you to