Page 11 of How to Fall for a Scoundrel
His face creased into another of those devastating smiles. “Excellent. In that case…” He extended his hand toward Daisy in formal greeting, “Charles King, Esquire, at your service.”
Daisy shook it with an amused chuckle. “Delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr. King.”
Tess sent him a wide, genuine smile, the kind that usually had men tripping over their feet and forgetting their own name, but Henri, astonishingly, merely smiled back. Perhaps, since he possessed the male equivalent of Tess’s beauty, he was immune.
Ellie ignored his tomfoolery, childishly determinedto burst his bubble of confidence. “You’re named after a dog, you know.”
His brows shot up. “I thought you chose King because it sounded regal. Trustworthy. Capable.”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. We chose it in honor of the one male all three of us adore: Daisy’s dog, Montgomery. He’s a King Charles Spaniel. King Charles. Charles King. Voilà.”
His face fell in comical dismay. “A dog. How very lowering.”
“I’m afraid so,” she said with mock solemnity. It was difficult not to laugh. “We’ll call you Charles in front of Bullock, but you’re going to have to provide us with a name to call you in private, when we’re not on the case. I refuse to call you Henri Bonheur, or the Comte de Carabas. What do your friends call you?”
His lips curved at her echo of his own words from the previous night. “My old tutor called me Harry. You can call me that, if you like. It’s as good a name as any.”
Ellie gave a businesslike nod, and Tess rose from her seat.
“Perfect. Now, Mr. Bullock will be here soon, but there’s no reason for all of us to see him. I’ve promised to go shopping with Justin. Ellie, you and Harry can find out what his problem is, and go from there.” She shot Ellie a look so sweetly innocent that Ellie was immediately suspicious. “Daisy, my love, you can come to Bond Street with me. Ellie will be perfectly fine on her own.”
Daisy, the little agitator, immediately nodded. “Of course, Iadoreshopping.”
The shameless lie slipped effortlessly off her tongue as she shot Ellie a wicked grin behind Harry’s back.
Ellie almost rolled her eyes at their monumentallyunsubtle attempt to matchmake. She reached into her skirt pocket for her glasses, so she could glare at them both in perfect focus, but her hand clasped around nothing.
“Looking for these?” Harry asked cheerfully.
Ellie glanced up with a frown, and her mouth dropped open as she recognized her spectacles held aloft in his large, tanned fingers. How onearthhad he managed to swipe them from her skirt pocket without her noticing? Had he done it when he’d passed her in the hall?
The man was a menace. Still, as Tess would doubtless say, he wastheirmenace.
She plucked them from his grasp with a myopic glare, which he returned with a smile that reminded her of a well-fed crocodile.
Tess, on her way out of the door, gave a throaty chuckle. “Why, Mr. King, that is a remarkable talent. I look forward to seeing you employ your other skills on our behalf.”
Harry grinned at her, but his gaze rested on Ellie when he answered.
“It will be my pleasure, Your Grace.”
Chapter Six
Tess opened the front door just as a postboy with a letter in his hand ascended the steps. Daisy took it and scanned the contents.
“It’s from Mr. Bullock. He’s asked you to meet him at his museum, instead of here.”
“The Egyptian Hall, in Piccadilly?” Ellie asked.
“Yes.”
“We can take my carriage.”
Harry’s voice came from directly behind her, and she stiffened. The man was as silent as a mouse!
He placed his top hat on his head at the same jaunty angle as before and gestured down the street, to where a handsome equipage waited, drawn by two perfectly matched grays. The liveried coachman was dressed as smartly as one of the king’s own servants, and Ellie squinted to see the painted crest adorning the door panels. It was not one she recognized, consisting of three lions rampant on a red shield with a gold chevron, and she wondered briefly if it was a fanciful decoration created purely for the “Comte de Carabas.”
“That’s not a stolen carriage, is it?” Daisy asked, a faint note of hopefulness in her tone.