For some reason the fact that he put his booted feet down softly touched her untenably.
He paused.
She would not be surprised if it was because he heard her heart beating.
He’d toyed with the rhythm of it since they met. He ought to know it the way a violinist knows his own instrument.
He peered into the room.
His hat was in his hand. As was his coat.
For a long moment they merely studied each other, somewhat warily. “I was at White’s,” he said finally.
“Ah. Were you?” she said quietly.
He glanced back over his shoulder at the stairs, probably thinking that’s where he ought to go.
Then he sighed.
“Is aught troubling you, Mrs. Breedlove?”
“Of course not. It’s a fine evening. Everyone is well-fed, tucked in, and safely inside by curfew. What could possibly trouble me when all is well at The Grand Palace on the Thames?”
“Whatindeed,” he said equably.
After a long moment of studying her.
He enunciated and elongated all of those consonants.
She said nothing.
He didn’t turn to leave, though he ought.
“You are a good liar,” he said thoughtfully, almost lightly, as though she’d asked for his opinion on the matter. He was loosening his cravat as he spoke. “But not nearly as good as some of the thieves and scoundrels I’ve met in my day. You’d want a bit more practice on someone with even less of a conscience than me.”
She dropped her jaw.
Their eyes collided.
His gaze flickered and became something more soft, as though he simply couldn’t help it.
Then his expression went neutral.
He turned halfway to leave.
Then turned back to her and said, irritably, his words rushed, “Did you know, Angelique... you rub your thumb and forefinger together, as if there’s an invisible coin, or something very soft and smooth between them, when you are troubled by something? It’s quite subtle. Still, I wouldn’t gamble if I were you. A clever or unscrupulous person will always know what you are thinking.”
Her fingers stopped moving at once.
She stared at them.
“And sometimes a little dent—like so—appears here when you are ever so concerned.”
“Ah. So gratifying to know that you’re noting my nascent wrinkles.”
“I saiddent. Rather like a dimple. Makes one want to drag a finger across it, to smooth it away.” His voice had gone almost lulled. Almost diffident.
The breath went out of her.