“Never let it be said Finn Caldwell is not a gentleman.”
Amelia’s mouth curved in the faintest of acknowledgement. “Oh, and if you would, please grab Heathy’s bag as well.”
“Heathy?” Finn repeated.
“My dog.”
Finn’s forehead furrowed. “The hound possesses his own satchel?”
“Of course.” Amelia flashed a smile.
“Consider it done, lass.”
She stepped aside, and Finn bounded up the stairs. Logan shot him a glare. God above, his cousin was bloody shameless.
“I take it he fancies himself to be charming,” Amelia said in a conspiratorial whisper.
“If that’s what ye want to call it.”
Amusement played on her rosy mouth. “I have little use for a charming man. I much prefer an honest one.”
“In that case, ye’re in bloody luck. I’m not inclined to spout silky drivel.”
As she placed her traveling case on the floor of the coach, Finn descended the steps, an over-stuffed carpet bag in one hand and a blue satchel embroidered with a large black “H” in the other. A metal bowl and a well-gnawed bone protruded from the case. By Zeus, she’d actually monogrammed the dog’s bag. Amelia Stewart was nothing if not surprising.
In place of his typical smug smile, Finn flashed a scowl. Logan let loose the rumble of laughter he’d held back. At least he wasn’t the only man whose fearsome reputation was at risk of crumbling to dust.
“Do ye intend to tell me why ye’re here?” he asked Finn as his cousin set the bags inside the carriage.
“I understand ye’re taking her to yer place. Someone needs to watch yer back.” Finn motioned to his carriage. “I’ll follow ye there.”
“Ye know of a threat?”
“None that I have confirmed.” Finn’s expression revealed more than his words.
Amelia’s top teeth grazed her plump bottom lip. The worry in her eyes was like a fist digging into Logan’s gut. “Has something else happened?”
Finn shook his head. “But we can’t let down our guard.”
“We’ll keep ye safe,” Logan assured her. “Ye can count on that.”
*
From her comfortableseat within MacLain’s carriage, Ameliatook in the scene as they made their way to his West End townhouse. Through the back window, she spotted Finn Caldwell at the reins of his sleek conveyance as he trailed their coach at a discreet distance.
Peering up at her from his spot by her feet, Heathy yipped for attention. Amelia slid a finger through the mesh at the end of his case and petted his head. “Oh, hush. You’ll be out of there soon enough.”
Turning back to the window, she drank in the fine craftsmanship of the elegant brick and mortar buildings lining the streets as the carriage made its way over the cobblestone pavement.
The carriage slowed as they approached a stately red-brick townhouse with gleaming black shutters. An ebony gaslight on a pole near the front windows lent the premises an understated charm.
MacLain climbed down from the driver’s bench and escorted her from the coach to the entry of the house.
“Welcome to my home.” His tone was casual, but the expression in his eyes betrayed the intensity of his mood.
Amelia gulped a breath and gripped Heathy’s carrier more tightly. To her dismay, the dog fidgeted and barked, announcing their presence.
As soon as MacLain opened the polished wood door, Mrs. Langford hurried to greet them. Looking past them, her smile lit her eyes. Amelia glanced over her shoulder as Mr. Caldwell strolled through the entry.
