In fact, Fleur looked about and assessed whether any of the cases contained a gun.
“Looking for a weapon, shrew?”
“Yes. A pistol, to be exact. Though I would settle for a dagger.”
Her eyes landed on a case at the far left corner of the shop that housed a gold knife with a rainbow-jeweled handle.
Hartwell stepped between her and the weapon and took her hard by the arm. “Do not even think about it.”
“I was thinking of purchasing it.”
He snorted. “Likely only after you used it to stab me.”
Fleur pressed her lips into a line.
“Nothing to say?”
“I recall from last evening that you have a preference for people lying to preserve your sensibilities. As a result, I feel it best not to say anything.”
“We can both take her, Your Grace,” the sullen-looking Mr. Rundell offered.
She beat Hartwell to a response. “You sound doubtful, Mr. Rundell—as you should.”
“As much as I regret to say, Rundell, we must heed the lady’s warning,” Hartwell wisely advised—and ruined it with his next breath. “She is a wayward thing.”
“I am strong-willed, Hartwell. Only a thin-skinned man would mistake strength for a flaw. But never tell me, you prefer ladies to be proper and biddable.”Not whorish and unseemly.
Which he would only see her as were he to discover the truth, were anyone to discover the truth. She hated the double standard they were held to, but hated even more that he had made her feel small in a different and terrible way.
Surprise sparked in Hartwell’s dark eyes. She awaited an apology orsomekind of acknowledgement that in speaking the unforgiveable, he had been utterly deplorable last night.
She was destined to die holding her breath before Hartwell ever owned to a wrongdoing.
“I’ll fetch the constable,” Mr. Rundell said quietly.
And as he gave a signal to a pair of clerks, she knew this was the moment she had won.
She was not going anywhere.
Hartwell couldn’t very well let her be carted off to the magistrate. Oh, as much as he wouldloveto send her on to Newgate, the scandal their families sought to put down would not allow—
The staff-turned-security nearly reached the front door when Fleur realized Hartwell was going to do nothing.
“Hartwell.” She swung her bag, catching him again at the back of his head.
The insufferable ox merely sighed like he’d been brushed by a gnat.
“As much as it would bring me great pleasure seeing the lady escorted off in cuffs, unfortunately, I must insist we not fetch the authorities, Rundell. It will set society’s tongues to wagging.”
“Mustn’t have people gossiping,” she muttered.
“I am stunned she even understands that, Mr. Rundell,” Hartwell said.
“Certainly, Your Grace. You are certain she is a relation.”
She and Hartwell spoke as one.
“He is not any relation to me.”