“That seems the most likely.” Without prompting, Stokes described the boys, thus eliminating the other likely scenarios. He didn’t elaborate on those alternatives; he didn’t need to—she knew the realities of the world she’d left.
He fell silent again. He didn’t press her; he waited…a predator nonetheless, but he was taking great care not to let that side of himself show.
She considered not helping, and inwardly sighed. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know, but I can ask around. I visit my father every week. He doesn’t get about much these days, but he hears everything, and he’s lived in the area all his life. He might not know who’s set up a school recently, but he’ll know who’s run schools in the past, and who might still be in that line of business.”
The tension that had held him eased. “Thank you. I’ll be grateful for anything we can learn.”
“We?”
He shifted. “Given I’ve asked you to revisit the area, I must insist that I go with you. As protection.”
“Protection?” She gave him a bemused, intentionally faintly patronizing look. “Inspector—”
She broke off, rethinking what she been about to say: that in the East End, it would not be she but he who would need protection. She swallowed the words because she’d finally allowed herself a proper look at him as he stood there taking up too much space in her little shop.
She’d seen him—briefly met him—before, but that had been in a watch house in a milling throng of big men; they’d camouflaged him. Today he was by himself, and she couldn’t miss his lean hardness, nor the way he moved, both sending a clear message that he could handle himself—easily—in a brawl.
Some gentlemen of the ton had that same dangerous edge—one that glinted through their polished exteriors, reminding the wise that underneath the sophistication beat a heart not civilized at all.
She’d been staring. Clearing her throat, she said, “I really don’t need any guard, Inspector. I visit my father regularly.”
“Perhaps, but the incident in Petticoat Lane could still have repercussions, and as in this instance you would be venturing into the area at my behest, I hope you can see that I couldn’t in all conscience allow you to proceed unescorted.”
“But—”
“I really must insist, Miss Martin.”
She frowned. His tone might imply he was requesting, but the expression on his dark-featured face, the flat gray of his eyes, stated unequivocally that, for whatever convoluted male reason, he wasn’t going to shift his stance. She knew that look; she’d seen it on her brothers’ and father’s faces often enough.
Which meant arguing would be futile. And Imogen and Jane would return soon, and she’d rather he was gone before they did.
Inwardly she sighed—again. In reality it would be no skin off her nose to walk into the East End with a man of his ilk at her heels. More than one woman would give a great deal for the privilege, and here he was offering, for free. She nodded. “Very well. I’ll accept your escort.”
He smiled.
She suddenly felt unsteady. Was this what it felt like to go weak-kneed?
Just because he’d smiled at her?
Second thoughts about the wisdom of allowing him any closer crowded into her brain.
“So…” He was still smiling. “I assume your girls will be back soon?”
She blinked. Then she met his eyes—gray, changeable, stormy. “I can’t go now—I’ve only just opened.”
“Ah.” He sobered; his smile faded. “I’d hoped—”
“This afternoon,” she heard herself say. “I’ll close early—at three o’clock. We can go and see my father then.”
He held her gaze, then nodded. “Thank you. I’ll return here at three o’clock.”
He didn’t smile again; she told herself she was grateful. But his lips did ease as he inclined his head politely. “Until then, Miss Martin.” He turned and walked to the door. Opening it, he glanced back, then went out.
The instant the door shut, her feet moved of their own accord, taking her down the shop to the door. She reached up to still the tinkling bell.
Watching Stokes’s greatcoat-swathed shoulders retreat along the street, she wondered what she was doing.
And why. It wasn’t like her to react to a handsome face, although his held a darkly rugged appeal that was difficult to ignore.
