The Unquiet - J. D. Robb [44]
“Thank you.” Lydia summoned all the dignity she could. One of them had to. “I will not be keeping my appointment. I will go directly back to my shop. I do not need or want an escort.”
“You are not worried that Nesbitt will be lying in wait?”
Oh dear, the thought had not even occurred to her. “Are you trying to frighten me?” He was succeeding.
“Not at all, merely trying to keep you safe.” He smiled, but it definitely did not reassure her. It was the kind of smile that invited her to a private party, one that would be more fun than anything she could imagine.
“I will see you safely home,” he said without apology.
So Mr. Chase had some of the bully in his makeup, too. “If you wish to see to my safety, then ride atop with the driver. I have my reputation to consider.”
“No one is about tonight, madame. Your reputation is as safe as you want it to be.”
Mr. Chase opened the carriage door, offering his hand to help her inside as she called the direction to the driver.
She wore gloves. He did not. He squeezed her hand a little, and the heat of his fingers traveled and warmed parts of her that had been stone cold for much too long.
Lydia missed the carriage step and almost fell. Mr. Chase caught her by the waist, steadied her, and made to lift her into the conveyance.
Shaking her head, she moved into the carriage and out of his grasp. She did not want him any closer.
“Good-bye, sir.”
“Not quite yet, Mrs. Chernov.”
She ignored him and knocked on the roof for the hackney to move on. Mr. Chase stepped up and into the hackney and took a seat beside her. She ignored the feel of him close, the scent he favored, which was something as fresh as mint but much more alluring.
No one knew better than she did that station and place in life meant nothing when it came to one body responding to another. It did not matter that she was a shopkeeper and he was quite obviously a gentleman, though also something of a rogue or even a rake.
She did not need the complication of a man like Mr. Chase in her life or, God help her, in her bed. In a few moments she would say good-bye and mean it.
TWO
Lydia would not give in to the confusion roiling through her. Holding the edge of the window so tightly her fingers grew numb, she ignored the man beside her and watched for any sign of her attacker.
Mr. Chase spoke the truth. Despite her rescuer’s threats, Nesbitt would not give up that easily. He might well try again now, when she was shaken and, beneath her bravado, terrified.
“The streets are empty. Except for that man over there and the doxy in the doorway. Do you see her?” Mr. Chase leaned closer to point out the window.
“Do be quiet,” Lydia snapped.
“As you wish,” Chase answered and fell silent.
Which made him no easier to ignore. How could she have forgotten how this felt—this attraction that made no sense at all? She knew little more than his name.
“Mrs. Chernov, do you have any idea why Nesbitt would have singled you out? How would he know that you would be out this evening? Was it common knowledge?”
Perhaps conversation was the best way to pass the time. “No, I did not announce it to my customers, but I did not keep it a secret either. Mr. Allerton is married to my husband’s sister, but for all that, I planned to discuss business.”
“And why is your husband not with you? On a buying trip perhaps?”
“Mr. Chernov died a year ago.” Should she have lied to discourage him? That would be foolish. Alexei’s death was common knowledge.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Chernov. What a devastating loss.” He watched her as he spoke; she could feel his eyes on her. Lydia nodded. Devastating? Yes, in so many ways. But she would not discuss it with a stranger.
“I must have something he wants, but I cannot puzzle out what it could be.” She shook her head thoughtfully. “When I asked what he wanted, he said, ‘Your most valued possession.’ ”
“And what is that?”
Lydia touched the necklace. “What I value most is a gift from Mr. Chernov, and it has no monetary worth.” That was vague enough to leave him guessing. For all of a second she debated telling