Free Dangerous to Hold by Elizabeth Thornton Page B

I’m a decent, respectable girl who works for a living, and the gentlemen who move in
my
circles are decent and respectable too.”
    He let her go when he was sure she wouldn’t throw herself out of the carriage. “I won’t apologize for the question,” he said. “It makes things simpler between us.” He abruptly shifted focus. “You said you work for a living. What kind of work?”
    It makes things simpler between us.
She gave up trying to puzzle out his odd way of expressing himself. She had more to worry about than that. He enjoyed provoking her, which made her nervous. If he got her dander up, she might betray too much.
    She’d already decided that there was no point in hiding the fact that she wrote for
The Journal.
The sooner he realized that she was exactly who she said she was, the sooner he would bow out of her life.
    “I write for
The Journal”
she said, “articles, essays, that kind of thing.”
    “I don’t think I understand.”
    For what remained of the drive to Emily’s house, Catherine explained it to him. He was torn between admiration and shock. “A. W. Euman,” he said. “That’s very clever. It means ‘a woman,’ of course. Damn, I’veeven read some of your articles. I didn’t know women thought about such things.”
    It was the sort of compliment she despised, but she kept her tongue between her teeth. “Thank you,” she said.
    “But
The Journal!
I’m truly impressed. It must have been difficult to convince the publisher—Melrose Gunn, isn’t it?—to take you seriously. No offense, but you are a female.”
    Catherine said sweetly, “On the contrary, it was Melrose who convinced me to allow my essays to be published. You’ll meet him tonight. He’s Emily’s cousin. That’s how we met—at one of Emily’s Thursday-night receptions. You do realize, my lord, that I’m telling you this in confidence? No one must know that A. W. Euman is a female.” And she wouldn’t have told him if she hadn’t been desperate.
    “Why not?”
    “Because no one takes a female seriously.”
    “Melrose Gunn takes you seriously, doesn’t he?”
    “Melrose is an exceptional man,” she said.
    They talked at length about the kind of articles she wrote, and at one point, Marcus asked her: “On the night I met you, is that what you were doing, research for one of your articles?”
    “It was,” she said.
    “That’s why you were at Mrs. Spencer’s house?”
    Amy had written to say that Wrotham had been asking questions and she had denied all knowledge of the lady he had described. “It was a hoax,” she said. “Someone, quite deliberately, sent me to the wrong house. It happens sometimes. That’s why I carry a pistol.”
    In mounting confidence, she answered each question he put to her and a few he hadn’t thought to ask. She didn’t want him returning later when something else occurred to him.
    When the carriage pulled up in front of Emily’s house, she gave him her most appealing smile. “I’ve answered all your questions, my lord. I trust you will keep your side of the bargain.”
    He helped her out, and held her wrist when she would have taken a step away from him. “Our bargain,” he said, “was that I wouldn’t see you again if you didn’t wish it. Before the night is over, I hope to make you change your mind.”
    He loved the worried look that came into her eyes, and was even more tickled when she bared her teeth at him. “I wouldn’t bet on it,” she snapped, snatched her wrist back and marched ahead of him toward the front door.
    Catherine needn’t have worried that anyone would pass judgment on her finery. She was in good company. It seemed everyone had donned their best to meet Wrotham. Some of the ladies were so dressed up she hardly recognized them. Pale white gauzes were very much in evidence, as were white silk stockings at ten shillings a pair, and elaborate coiffures held together with posies of silk flowers. She felt quite ordinary. The gentlemen,