Free Too Dangerous For a Lady by Jo Beverley Page B

Very well, but don’t dally. I’m sure we must be off soon.”
    She hurried back toward their inn, but Hermione dawdled, enjoying being on her own for a while. She wasn’t solitary by nature, for in Hampshire she’d enjoyed many social occasions, but she’d always been able to spend time alone, sketching, reading, playing music, or simply whiling away time. That seemed sinfully indolent now, for at Selby Hall the family worked as hard as the servants. It was probably a sin to want to be able to afford indolence, but she did.
    She entered the aromatic shop and lingered over the pleasure of choosing between a plain soap, a rose-scented one, and a lavender. In the end she chose the rose because Polly would prefer it, and the shop assistant wrapped it neatly in silver paper and tied it with a pink ribbon. Delighted by the prettiness of it, and completely satisfied with her purchase, Hermione left the shop—to almost bump into Thayne.
    His apology was distracted, but then he truly saw her. And smiled in a most satisfying way. “Lady Hermione.”
    â€œSir.” She dipped a curtsy, unable to suppress a smile of her own, even though daylight didn’t amend his shabbiness. His hair was still too long beneath his unfashionably low-crowned hat, and his jacket had seen many better days, and he was still a thief. But his dark-lashed eyes were as fine as she remembered from the ball and her heart was dancing.
    â€œHow do you come to be here, wandering the streets without escort?” he asked.
    â€œHow do you come to be here without pursuers? Aren’t you supposed to be en route for London?” Suddenly she wondered whether he’d followed her there.
    A number of romantic fancies were exploded when he said, “The road to London threatened to seize up becauseof the Spencean Crusade, so I traveled west to avoid delay. You’ve done the same?”
    â€œOur route continues west. To Tranmere, in the Wirral.”
    â€œThus we cross by happy chance. May I escort you to your inn?”
    Good sense commanded that she say no, but she was incapable of it. “So you’ve escaped pursuit,” she said as they strolled along.
    â€œWith your help.”
    â€œWhich I’m sure I should repent. Any theft has a victim.”
    â€œI assure you, the victim in this case doesn’t deserve your sympathy. No, I’ll say no more, but I hope you believe me, for I’d not want you to suffer any qualms.”
    â€œThen I will believe you. I prefer to think myself in the right at all times.”
    She meant it as a joke and he chuckled. “Delightful as ever. Or is that too bold?”
    Inside she purred, but she kept the tone light. “Any lady is pleased to be told she delights, sir. You should scatter your praise with abandon.”
    â€œA very risky course.”
    She raised a brow at him. “Are you claiming to be hunted by ladies with marriage in mind?”
    â€œSome disregard my rags in favor of my charms. Not you, I assume.”
    â€œIf only I were a grand heiress, sir, I might be able to afford you.” She said it lightly, but watched his reaction. It was unreadable and they’d arrived at the innyard of the Lamb. There was nothing for it. She offered her gloved hand. “Good-bye, sir.”
    He took it, saying, “Good-bye,” but raising it to his lips.
    Despite sturdy cotton gloves, she felt a frisson, and his eyes held hers. Surely it spoke of emotions similar to her own.
    Thief!
she reminded herself.
At the very least you must go carefully.
    She pulled her hand free and hurried into the innyard, not allowing herself a backward glance, but she paused as soon as she was out of sight to gather her composure. Her heart was racing and she was almost in tears. Over a rascally thief.
    A completely unrepentant thief. Good riddance—and yet she had to dab her eyes and blow her nose. It would never do for Polly to see signs of distress.