Page 4 of How to Fall for a Scoundrel

It pained her to turn down what sounded like a particularly lucrative job, but since there was no way Bullock could possibly meet Mr. King, it had to be done.

“I’m afraid there can be no exceptions,” she said firmly. “I’m sorry. All communication must be done through either myself, Dorothea Hamilton, or Her Grace, the Duchess of Wansford.”

Bullock let out an aggravated huff. “I already tried Miss Hamilton,” he admitted. “She told me the same thing.”

“And if Her Grace were here this evening, she’d agree.”

Bullock gave an unhappy grunt. “That’s a shame. I’m an honest man, Miss Law, and I’ve made my fortune through honest means. I like to look a man in the eye before I do business with him, and if Charles King can’t trust me to keep his secret, then—”

“—he’ll be unable to take your case,” Ellie finished regretfully. “Mr. King is extremely—”

“Ah! Eleanor! There you are, my sweet! I’ve been looking for you all evening.”

Ellie turned in surprise as “Henri Bonheur” appeared from behind a nearby pillar, dimples on full display.

“But you’ve only just—”

He didn’t let her finish. He clasped her shoulders and pressed a firm kiss to both of her cheeks, in the French manner, as if they were old friends, then turned to Bullock with a disarming smile, hand outstretched.

“Henri Bonheur, Comte de Carabas.”

Bullock was not immune to his magnetic charm. He shook hands automatically. “William Bullock.”

“I see you’ve been making the acquaintance of my associate, Miss Law.”

Bullock’s brows lowered in confusion. “Associate?”

Bonheur leaned in, just as Ellie had done earlier, and, much to her annoyance, she couldn’t prevent herself from bending forward, too, to hear what he was about to say.

“Indeed,” he said with an air of mystery. “I can see you’re a man of above common intelligence, Mr. Bullock—”

Bullock’s chest expanded again.

“—and it has come to my attention that you’ve been asking to meet Mr. King.”

“I have.”

Bonheur lowered his voice to a whisper. “In that case, allow me to inform you thatIam the man you seek.”

“What?! No!” Ellie burst out. “What are you—?”

Bonheur sent her a glance that managed to be both laughing and chiding at once. He shook his head. “Now, now, Ellie. I appreciate your sterling efforts to keep my secret, but I’ve decided to take Mr. Bullock, here, into my confidence.”

He slapped Bullock’s shoulder, and the older man visibly preened.

“I trust we can be assured of yourutmostdiscretion in this matter?”

“Of course,” Bullock blustered immediately. “Absolutely. A hundred percent. Does this mean you’ll take my case? It’s just a straightforward theft, not the sort of thing you usually deal with, I know, but your reputation is second to none, and I want the best.”

“For five hundred pounds? Of course I’ll take it. But we can’t discuss it here. You may call at my office, at number seven, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, tomorrow at ten o’clock sharp.”

Bullock straightened and smoothed the front of his waistcoat over his belly. “Thank you, sir. Thank you. I shall see you tomorrow, then.” He nodded toward Ellie, and the look he gave her was only slightly condescending. “Good evening, Miss Law.”

Ellie managed to contain her ire until Bullock was out of earshot, then she whirled back to “Henri” and pinned him with a look that could have pulverized rock.

“What on earth are you playing at?” she hissed. “You arenotCharles King. In fact, I very much doubt you’re Henri Bonheur either. Explain yourself, sir!”

Chapter Three