“You do not have to say it,” she snapped. “I am sure he did. I swear, when he and Tory return, I shall box his ears.”
Heath gaped at her, then laughed heartily. “I was going to ask that you please not tell him I revealed it, but the idea of you boxing the Duke of Falconridge’s ears is too tempting. That is something Ihaveto see.”
She clenched her hands into fists under the blanket, only slightly mollified. “So, you said that you wish to discuss—”
“Right. Jon proposed that we each do certain tasks in our efforts to find out who betrayed us. I … er … volunteered to ask you about Morris.” Before she could protest that it wasn’t her father, either, he added, “You know that he left journals and letters for Tory.”
She nodded. “He had me bring them to her.”
“Exactly. Tory and Jon are going through them, looking for possible hints of who it might be. But my job was to ask you if you noticed anyone hanging about him. Anyone whom he might have told about our plans or who might even have overheard them.”
“Hmm. I shall have to think about that. I really am not sure. There were many servants in the lodging house, you know, and he tutored other French people in English and détenus in French. The list might be long. And he did not tell me about all of them.” She sighed. “He kept many things to himself.”
“I noticed.” He shot her a veiled look. “Did it bother you that he didn’t claim you as his daughter publicly?”
She eyed him askance. “Not one bit. It would have upset his wife and daughter, ruined his reputation, ruined my mother, and ruined me.” Gazing down at the blanket covering their laps, she sighed. “Sometimes I do wish Maman had chosen to marry him while he was still unattached, rather than Monsieur Bernard.”
“Why didn’t she?”
She stared at the horses. “Maman has never said why, but I suspect she considered him a mere love affair, her last time of fun before she married the very rich Monsieur Bernard two months later.” She shrugged. “And Monsieur Morris was English and a poor professor, besides. Knowing Maman, she wanted what you English call ‘to have her cake and eat it, too.’”
“Ah. I used to know a woman like that.”
The words made her wonder, but she did not want to know about any of his women. “I suppose I want the same, to have had Monsieur Morris as my papa from the beginning but also to have met Tory and Jon and Chloe and …”
“Me.”
She merely nodded, not wanting to admit aloud how much she would have missed by not meetinghim.
They traveled a way in silence before he spoke again. “You were very brave to leave Paris on your own and travel to Verdun. Having made that trip myself, I know it is not an easy journey.”
“True. But it was summer, so I … er … stole a cart and horse from the hotel and traveled the whole way pretending to be a peasant and sleeping in the cart at night.”
“Good God, the things that might have happened to you on the way, a woman alone.” He glanced at her. “It chills my soul to think of it.”
Suddenly, the turn into Hyde Park came up, and his gaze shot back to the road. He took the turn a bit too fast, throwing her against him. Instinctively, she grabbed his thigh under the blanket for balance.
Once everything righted itself and they were inside the park, she started to remove her hand, but he covered it with his. “Don’t,” he rasped. “Your hand will stay warmer there.”
A laugh escaped her. “And my other hand?”
He smiled. “It would stay warmer, too, but then everyone could tell where it was.”
“Heath …” she said, wanting to protest.
But he caressed her hand beneath the blanket, and the words died in her throat. She could feel his touch even through her gloves, making her wonder what it would be like to touch him skin to skin.
Even after he took his hand away to grasp the reins with both hands again, she kept her hand on his leg. His thigh, as firm as iron but warm, flexed under her fingers. She ran her hand along it, then glanced over to see his reaction. His jaw was rigid, and he swallowed hard.
“Enough,” he said hoarsely, removing her hand from his thigh. “Any more, and I’ll do something we’ll both regret.”
Her heart pounded and her cheeks heated. What was she doing? This was not what she wanted. He seemed to desire her, but he would never marry her, so she was playing with fire.
Still, as long as she did not throw herself into the flames, she’d be fine. Adequate. She had to content herself with that.
Chapter 6
Heathbrook struggled against pulling over into some dark corner of Hyde Park, asking his tiger to be a lookout, and then taking greater liberties with her.