“Well, Mason Flowerdy, Viscount Lonsdale, and Marcus Hunt, distinguished runner for Bow Street, you have the wrong woman.”
“Miss, I do not believe you grasp the severity of the situation,” Hunt spoke up. “This is a serious offence. It would be better for you to cooperate with us.”
She scoffed. “You all but kidnapped me, Mr. Hunt. And please, call me Miss Harwood. You will be quite familiar with this name once I’m done making my complaints to your offices.”
“A woman that does not shy away from confrontation, I’m impressed.” Mason smiled. “However, you fell into a trap, Miss Harwood, set specifically for my uncle—for you. I had a pocket watch in my possession on the balcony. When you left, I did not. I am by no means a mathematician, but even I understand the basic math of this significance.”
“Well, Mr. By-no-means-a-mathematician, I am by no means a lawyer, but even I understand that you require either proof that I stole your watch, or the watch itself as proof. Are you certain you still had the watch in your possession when you stepped on the balcony?”
“I’m sure.”
“Beyond a measure of doubt?”
Mason narrowed his eyes on the little thief. “I am not mistaken.”
She harrumphed. “And yet there is no way to prove your claim.”
Vexing woman.
“Miss Harwood,” Mason said, resisting the urge to yank her from the carriage and pat her down. “You can either hand over the watch or be stripped bare in search of it. Choose.”
Her gaze met his without flinching. “Strip me bare, if you must.”
A direct challenge.
Mason found his lips turn up into a smile. He turned to Hunt. “You heard the lady. Escort her to the office and strip her bare.”
He meant to scare her.
Wantedto scare her.
Who knew the damnable chit would laugh in his face.
Chapter 2
Caroline entered the Bow Street magistrate’s office with Mr. Hunt at her front and the Viscount at her back. Having been intercepted in such away, she had no choice but to reveal her identity and hope that her name would offer her a measure of protection.
Her first priority was getting back to her sisters.
She cursed her wits for failing her. A trap, Lonsdale had said. From beginning to end, she hadn’t sensed anything of that nature, which alarmed her. She had always prided herself on being an excellent judge of character. Her intuition always on point.
How had this happened?
Looking back, warnings of danger ought to have rung out the moment he cleared his throat on that secluded balcony. And hadn’t he been the one to approach her? Lean into her?
Outright provocation!
He practically dared her to pilfer his pocket watch.
She sighed. She trulyhadwalked straight into the beasts trap.
The Viscount had also said his uncle had hired her. In truth, she didn’t know who had hired her. The mysterious man who had approached her had offered her a fortune. If she hadn’t been so desperate to set up a new life for herself and her sisters in the country, she might have questioned the circumstance in which the man approached her. Loot one trinket from a lord in possession of many a trinket? The sum, as well their future, had outweighed any moral resistance that had surfaced.
Despite all of this, the piercing gaze on her back bothered her more than the fact that she’d been caught. And the heat between her shoulders seemed to intensify as they entered a small office at the back of the building.
Not a cell, then.
Mr. Hunt motioned for her to sit, settling into a seat behind an old mahogany desk across from her. The Viscount shut the door and leaned against it, crossing one leg over the other as he observed them.
