Page 37 of His Improper Lady

“Falk said it was a large envelope sent by an attorney named Blackstock. He didn’t say who it was addressed to. I’m not sure he even knew that. He was rather vague about the whole thing. He thought it would be a large envelope or perhaps even a file. And it would be at your office.”

“It still makes no sense.” Tom sighed and stood up. “But we’d probably better continue or our friend will grow suspicious.”

He politely reached down a hand to help her up. There was no reason to, of course—it was obvious the woman was anything but weak—but Tom couldn’t resist the chance to touch her.

Desiree took it, saying, “Are we going to lose our spy?”

“I think I’d rather keep him,” Tom said, and they started across the square.

Desiree nodded. “I agree. What’s he going to learn from tramping all over the place after us?” She sent Tom that twinkling grin that did peculiar things to his insides. “And I wouldn’t mind making him a little footsore.”

“I’d rather not let him know we’re onto him, at least not yet.” Tom was silent for a moment, then said, “What if Falk thinks you have what he wanted you to find? That you lied to him about not finding it. And he’s trying to get it back?”

“That’s a possibility,” Desiree agreed after a moment of thought. “He might think I had realized its value, whatever that is, and decided to keep it for myself.”

“Did you?”

“No! I don’t understand why you are so convinced I’m a cheat.” Her eyes lit with anger; it was annoying that it made her even more attractive. “It isn’t as if your past is spotless. I would think you could understand that a person might give up that life. Or that they can have a sense of honor even though they’ve broken the law.”

“I’m suspicious by nature,” Tom said. “And experience. I learned early on that it’s the best way to get by.”

“So you trust no one? You must have very few friends.”

“Of course I have friends,” Tom protested. As soon as he said it, he wondered if that was true. He had dozens of acquaintances. But were they really what one would call friends? There were Alex and Con, of course. They were close; he’d known them since they were children. He’d trust them with his life, and they knew he’d have their backs. But they weren’t mates that one raised a pint or two with at the pub. They weren’t the sort of friends you told your secrets to. Nobody was. Tom kept his secrets to himself.

They continued to walk, dissecting the area as they had planned, searching for the house they wanted. They came across a church—two, in fact—as well as trains and even a small triangular piece of grass that could perhaps be called a park. But there was no sign of a row of white stone houses such as Brock had described. After completing the outer square, they crisscrossed the inside of it.

“I think we’re going to have to accept that this area is not the one we want,” Desiree said. “Why don’t we return to the house for tea and start again tomorrow?”

Tom agreed, and they started back. After a few minutes, Tom said, “Could you drop your handkerchief?”

“What?”

“Or glove or anything. I want an excuse to look for our pursuer.”

“Of course.” Desiree let go of the handle of her parasol, and it fell to the ground behind her, tumbling down the road. Tom went chasing after it, and Desiree stopped and turned to watch him, her eyes scanning the street.

Tom grabbed the parasol and came back to her, grinning. Desiree was as clever as they came; the bouncing, rolling parasol had given him ample opportunity to unobtrusively scour the street. She stood there waiting for him in a perfect pose of fluttery feminine distress, leavened with just the right touch of flirtation. She looked utterly charming, and no doubt she had scouted for their pursuer, as well. Even knowing it was all an act, Tom wanted to pull her to him and kiss her.

Which was not at all the way to be thinking.

“Did you see him?” he asked as he handed her the parasol.

“Across the street, about fifty feet back?”

Tom nodded, and they started forward, still at a casual stroll. He considered the route back to the Malone house, searching his memory for just the right spot for the plan brewing in his head. At the next intersection they would turn right, and just beyond that intersection there lay a church with a small courtyard, partially separated from the street by the remains of an old wall.

They turned the corner. The church wall was beside them, as he had remembered. Tom cast a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure their pursuer was still out of sight around the corner. Then he snaked his arm around Desiree’s waist and whisked her into the church courtyard.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“TOM! WHAT—” Desiree said as Tom pulled her behind the old stone wall, out of view of the street.

He raised a finger to his lips, and Desiree went still. They waited in a silence broken only by the sound of their breathing. His arm was still around her, her body almost flush against his, as he turned his head, watching the sidewalk beyond the wall.

It occurred to Desiree that this was the third time she had been in Tom’s arms, and none had been a romantic embrace. The other times Desiree’s thoughts had been on nothing but escape, but here and now she was supremely aware of Tom’s body against hers—his heat, his strength, the sound of his breath in her ear. And she felt no desire to leave. Swallowing, Desiree reminded herself that there were more important matters to deal with.

After a moment, the man who had been following them walked past their spot and stopped, looking up and down the street in confusion. Tom released Desiree and jumped out to grab the man’s arm and yank him back into the courtyard with them. The man let out a grunt of surprise and swung at Tom. Desiree moved closer, her parasol at the ready, but her help wasn’t necessary. Tom neatly sidestepped the man and grabbed his arm, twisting it up behind his back. He slammed his opponent into the wall.