“Surely you know,” she said. “Tobias’s is fast becoming the most sought-after beauty product in all of London.”
For the time being, it appeared that Sabine and the marquess were finished with their brief confrontation. The interlude wouldn’t last long, though. Eventually this woman would leave the shop, and the marquess would continue his questions. She might not know him, but Sabine could tell that Max Barrett was not a man who gave up all that easily.
“May I help you with anything today?” Sabine asked.
Intentionally, she faced the woman, putting her back to the marquess. “We have many products designed for the modern woman; which did you have in mind?”
Cassandra turned her icy gaze to Sabine. “The Tobias Miracle Crème is theonlyitem I require,” she said, then she shifted her attention back to Max.
Sabine ignored the woman’s superior tone. “How many jars would you like?”
“If it’s as good as I’ve heard, I should probably start with several.” Cassandra touched her pale blonde locks and smiled coolly. “You’ve been selling out, yes?”
“Every day for several weeks.” Sabine couldn’t help noticing how the marquess appeared rather amused, standing there with his smug smile as he looked from one woman to the other.
“Three will be good then.” The woman held up three long fingers, but never once met Sabine’s eyes.
“Whatever are you doing in here?” Cassandra asked Max. “Buying a gift for a new love?” She ran a finger down the marquess’s arm.
Sabine went about packaging the three jars, all the while watching their exchange.
“A friend’s wife, actually,” he said.
Sabine was amazed at how easily the lie slipped off his tongue. She’d have to remember that in her future dealings with him. Not that she planned on having any.
“It’s her birthday,” he added with a smile.
“Lovely,” Cassandra said. “How very considerate of you.”
Now at least Sabine knew that the man was not married. It mattered not, though she supposed it was nice to know she hadn’t kissed a married man.
“Madam,” Sabine said as she held out the bag with the three jars.
Cassandra sauntered over to the counter and counted out her money, then instead of putting it in Sabine’s outstretched hand, she dropped it onto the countertop. As she turned to leave, she paused and leaned in close to Max’s ear and whispered something. With a saucy smile, she made her way out of the shop’s door.
He turned to face Sabine once again, and there on his left cheek was the perfect imprint of the woman’s red lips.
Sabine chuckled.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head. Let him walk around London with rouge on his cheek. “Friend of yours?”
He paused, and then recognition lit his eyes. “Ah, Cassandra, she was a”—he paused—“friend. I suppose you could call her that.”
Clearly, they had been more than merely friends at some point. For reasons she did not want to consider, Sabine’s amusement went sour in her stomach. He could have all thefriendsin the world, and with his dashing good looks, probably did.
As Sabine crossed in front of him to one of the display shelves, he placed a hand on her shoulder. Suddenly, it was as if all the air in the room had been removed. His warm fingers held tightly to her sensitive skin, and she knew he could feel her pulse racing beneath his touch.
She pulled free. “Sir, I do not know you and would prefer you not handle me in such a manner.”
A few customers shot them questioning looks. “I do wish you’d leave,” she whispered.
He chuckled. “Not before you tell me why you were after my map.”
With less grace than she would have liked, she stepped away from him. “There is nothing to tell. I have a fondness for maps. You could say I’m a collector. I heard you had a rare one in your possession.” She shrugged and hoped she looked casual. “’Tis all.”
His eyebrows quirked. “You would have me believe you are merely a simple shopkeeper with an interest in an extraordinary map?”