Page 19 of The Heiress Masquerade (Dollar Princess #2)

Aimee knew she shouldn’t be feeling this thrill of excitement to be going with him, especially given her anger toward him, but the idea of assisting him investigate who was behind the attempted sabotage was exciting.

They zigzagged through various thoroughfares and alleys, with Harrison focused on getting to their destination in the quickest time possible, it seemed, barely speaking a word or glancing at her at all. It would be a boring fifteen-minute walk if that continued, and she was still furious with the man for thinking he could toy with her without consequence.

“Does your paramour often visit you at work?” she asked, unwilling to be anything but blunt about the situation.

His steps faltered for a millisecond. “Lady Whitley is not my paramour.”

“Oh please, I’m not a fool. It was clear you and she are involved, though she doesn’t strike me as the sort of woman who’d appreciate you kissing another woman while you’re in a relationship with her. But what would I know? You’re the one who knows her intimately .”

Aimee knew it was inappropriate to be having such a conversation with her boss, but it was a perfectly acceptable conversation to be having with a man who had only recently kissed her.

He stopped in his tracks, his hand reaching over and pulling her to a stop, caring little that several people had to dart around them. “I’m not in a relationship with Lady Whitley.”

Ignoring the fission of electricity shooting up her arm from the brush of his fingers against her sleeve, Aimee glowered at him. “I think she might disagree. She made it plain that she considers you hers.”

“Well, she’s not.” He peered at her. “You sound jealous.”

“I’m not,” Aimee insisted, shaking her hand free from his. “I don’t appreciate being kissed by a man who’s already in a relationship with another lady. It’s not what a proper gentleman would do.”

“But I’m not a proper gentleman. My mother was a maid after all.”

“Is that how you justify your reprehensible behavior?” This close to him she had a hard time ignoring her desire to lean into him and breathe in his scent fully. “How dare you kiss me while you’re seeing her!”

“I’m not seeing her!” He exhaled sharply. “I broke things off nearly two months ago, so there’s no reprehensible behavior on my part to justify. Except perhaps for kissing you, which I never should have done, and certainly won’t be doing again.”

“I’m the one who won’t be kissing you again.”

“You instigated our kiss today.”

“That was to prove a point.”

“Is that so?” His voice was a challenging whisper, his head bending down precariously close to her own, until their lips were mere inches away.

The man wouldn’t be so bold as to kiss her on a crowded street, would he? Aimee gulped, uncomfortably aware that the thought excited her rather than horrified her. “I thought you said you won’t be kissing me again.”

“It’s your body that’s leaning in toward me.”

Aimee belatedly realized she was doing exactly that. Darn traitorous body. She straightened back and took a deliberate step away from him. “A derringer is far more effective at close range, perhaps you should remember that.”

He stared at her for a moment, with a look that could only be described as baffled amusement. “You’re still threatening to shoot me? You know, not one other woman has ever done so before, yet you have on numerous occasions in our short acquaintance.”

“That’s probably because most ladies you’ve dealt with before didn’t have a derringer to threaten you with. If they’d had one, I’m sure they would’ve used it.”

“My dear lady,” he murmured his eyes traveling down the length of her body, making Aimee feel naked. “The furthest thing those ladies were thinking of doing to me was shooting me. They had far more enticing activities in mind, that I can promise you.”

She believed him, too. Any woman with a pulse could see how darn attractive he was, exuding a raw masculinity that was compelling to the point of impulsiveness. And she was having a hard time not being impulsive when it came to him. But she had to resist. If anyone ever caught her kissing him, she’d be ruined, and worse, possibly forced to marry him with her dreams of ever running anything of her father’s swept away in a heartbeat.

She’d never give up her dream for any man, even if he did kiss outrageously well.

Clearing her throat, she dragged her eyes away from his, realizing that even in a crowded street she wasn’t immune to the man. It was a weakness she had to put a stop to. “I’ll take your word for it. Now, perhaps we should continue on before the interpreter flees the country and this whole endeavor becomes a waste of time?”

“Then stop bloody talking about kissing,” he mumbled as he resumed walking down the street while Aimee followed next to him.

“You were the one to mention it,” she didn’t hesitate to point out. “Are you really not in a relationship with Lady Whitley?”

“No, I’m not,” he said candidly. “I promise you that.”

And for some reason, she did believe him.

“Are you in a relationship with the man you sent that telegram to?” he in turn asked.

“I suppose it depends on how you define relationship.”

His expression grew thunderous, and Aimee couldn’t help but grin.

“Oh relax, I’m only joking. I’m not in any relationship with him except for the fact that he’s a business acquaintance.”

“A business acquaintance?”

“Yes. Now you’re the one sounding jealous.” She grinned, enjoying teasing him for once, rather than arguing with him.

“Hardly.” Now it was he who rolled his eyes.

“Well, you sound jealous, Harrison.” His name sounded so intimate rolling off her lips, and he must have sensed that, too, because for the next several moments neither of them said anything, the atmosphere between them surprisingly charged and uncomfortable. She didn’t like it at all. And she especially didn’t like that now she knew he wasn’t in a relationship with Lady Whitley, thoughts of him kissing her again kept flittering into her consciousness.

Would it be so bad to kiss him again? Of course, it would be if her parents discovered she’d done so, but here in England, with a measure of freedom she’d never had, having always been chaperoned and told what she could and couldn’t do, it was highly unlikely anyone would ever find out.

But, no, she couldn’t kiss him again. Already he was filling up far too much of her thoughts; thoughts which should be focused on learning her father’s business, not thinking about how wonderful his tongue felt caressing hers.

Oh God, even just the thought of that had her eyes glancing over to his mouth, noticing the fullness of his lips from his side profile, and remembering the heady thrill of what they felt like pressing against her own.

She had to stop thinking about his lips. It was distracting and a complete waste of time when she had far more important matters to attend to. “Who do you think is trying to sabotage the deal?” she asked, returning to her safe space of discussing business while dodging out of the way of several street hawkers as she followed him down another street. She had no idea where in London they were, but the flow of pedestrians and carriages had increased.

“It could be any number of possibilities,” he eventually replied.

“Who would benefit most from this deal being aborted? It would have to be someone who didn’t have stocks in either company, given both ours and Wilheimer’s shares have been steadily soaring for the last month since rumors first began about us buying them out. If news leaked that the deal might fall through, stocks in both companies would plummet.”

“That’s a deft assessment of the situation,” Harrison replied.

“If it’s correct, it means whoever wants the deal to fall through must want to see the stock prices of both companies fall and would undoubtedly make a profit from them doing so.” Then a thought occurred to her. “Is Sampson’s Shipping and Building still Wilheimer’s main competitor?”

They stopped at a crossing as several large carriages lumbered past, and Harrison glanced over to her. “They are. You think they’re behind the sabotage?”

“Weren’t they initially the front-runner for the deal before you settled on Wilheimer’s business instead? Maybe they want to sabotage the deal with Wilheimer, so you return to them as an alternate. Their stocks rose sharply initially when it was anticipated we’d buy them out, only to plummet when news hit it was Wilheimer’s business you’d instead decided upon.”

“How is it you know so much about our company, and the stock fluctuations of our competitors, when your uncle said your only interest was fossils?” he asked, placing his hand on her elbow and guiding her across the street as the traffic eased.

His touch sent an avalanche of wanting through her body, and she had to remind herself to walk and not melt into a puddle of mush by his feet.

“Well?” he asked, dropping his hand once they’d crossed to the other side of the road.

Oh, that’s right, fossils, Evie’s passion. Honestly, Aimee couldn’t think of anything more boring than looking at old, dusty rocks. “Yes, well, as much as old rocks fascinate me,” she replied, doing her best to sound genuine about a topic that didn’t interest her at all, “now that I’m doing this traineeship, I felt it best to immerse myself in the world of business.”

He was silent for a moment as they continued walking down the busy street. “So, you like fossils?”

“They’re a, um…passion of mine, you could say.” A passionate dislike of hers, though Evie did adore them.

“Interesting,” he murmured, turning down another street, his footsteps barely making a noise on the cobblestones beneath. “Given you haven’t mentioned anything about fossils since you arrived. Not one thing.”

“I didn’t know I had to.” She didn’t like where this was going. He sounded highly suspicious and if he kept asking her questions about fossils, she’d flounder as she hadn’t really paid much attention to Evie whenever she went on and on about them. Who cared about ancient rocks anyhow, when there were far more interesting things to discuss, such as stocks, mergers, and sabotage? “Is that the translation office just down there?” She pointed down the street to the left, to where a sign was hanging.

“It is,” he said, glancing to the sign, too. “And when we get there, it could prove advantageous if they don’t know you speak another language.”

“Five other languages,” she replied, glad his attention was now diverted back to their purpose rather than on her lack of mentioning fossils.

“So you said earlier,” he murmured. “When, though, did you find the time to learn that many languages as a companion?”

“I attended all of my cousin’s language lessons with her.” Which was true, Evie had attended all of Aimee’s lessons, though she’d always brought one of her fossil or history books with her to read instead of participating in the lesson as she was welcome to. “Who’d have thought the lessons would come in handy for some corporate espionage?”

Three minutes later her hopes of being a spy were dashed by the closed sign on the door.

Harrison still knocked and rattled the knob, while Aimee peered through the glass window looking between some gaps in the lace curtains. There wasn’t much to see. The front of the office had a desk in the corner with its drawers pulled out and empty, almost like someone had been in a rush to get what was inside and then get out of there.

“It looks like he’s already been and gone.”

Harrison stopped banging on the door and walked over to stand next to her, glancing through the gaps, too. “You’re right. The place looks like it’s been emptied out.”

“That’s because it has been,” a woman’s voice said from behind them.

Aimee and Harrison both spun around to find a woman in her fifties, staring at them over her spectacles as she stood in the doorway of the flower shop across from them.

“You know the people that work here?” Harrison asked.

“The one person,” the lady corrected. “There was only ever Mr. Masterton in his office, though he did have a secretary who occasionally came and did some work for him, but I haven’t seen her around much lately.”

“Was Mr. Masterton an interpreter?” Aimee asked.

“Aye. And boy did he come through here earlier today in a rush.” The woman shook her head. “Looked like the devil was after him, madly dashing about his office, shoving things in his satchel, before fleeing like he was on fire.”

“Do you happen to know where he went?” Harrison asked.

The woman pursed her lips. “What do you two want with him?”

“We were in a meeting with him today and he accidentally left behind several important documents.” Aimee patted her satchel. “Which we’re hoping to return to him.”

“You’re not the first trying to find him today,” the woman replied. “Not even the second.”

“Who else has been here?” Harrison asked.

The woman shrugged. “A lady was looking for him this morning, and then a couple of burly-looking blokes this afternoon. I imagine he probably stiffed them for some money like he did me. He got me to send his wife some flowers the other day, and he promised he’d pay me back given he had a big payday coming,” she started to explain, “but lo and behold he hasn’t, and the way he left looked like he wasn’t coming back anytime soon, so I’m assuming he’s gone home and left me out of pocket.”

“Do you know where he lives?” Aimee asked her again.

“Just south of Waterloo Station,” the woman began. “Unit twelve of sixty, Tower Street. And if he’s there, you tell him to come and pay me back for his flowers, or I’ll pay him a visit myself.”

Aimee reached into her reticule and pulled out a shilling. “Here, that should cover it, plus a bit extra for your assistance, which we’re grateful for.”

The woman glanced down at the coin Aimee placed into her hand. “Aye, that will cover it and then some. But I can’t pay you back.”

She went to hand the coin back, but Aimee shook her head. “Keep it. Perhaps one day you might be able to return the favor and help someone else, pay a good deed forward.”

“Thank you.” The woman nodded, before she spun around and returned to her store.

Aimee glanced over at Harrison who was staring at her oddly, though she wasn’t sure why. “To Tower Street I’m guessing?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

They walked to the main road and Harrison hailed a hansom carriage, giving the driver the address of the mysterious Mr. Masterton. Aimee preceded him into the vehicle and wiggled over to the far side, while he settled himself on the seat next to her. The heat radiating from his thigh sent a warm shiver through her and she clenched her fingers tightly in her palms to distract herself from his nearness.

“How long until we get there?” She didn’t know if she’d be able to stand sitting this close to him for a lengthy ride.

“Fifteen minutes, depending on traffic.” He glanced over to her. “Are you usually so generous with your money?”

“It was only a shilling.”

“A generous amount for someone in your position.”

“Someone in my position?” She was getting angry with his assumptions that Evie had nothing just because of the circumstances surrounding her birth. “What does that even mean? Are you implying my family don’t give me anything simply because I was born on the wrong side of the sheets?”

“I’m implying that Thomas told me you’d refused to accept the trust fund he wanted to set up for you, stating you didn’t want any charity and would work for your wages,” he replied. “For someone who was adamant about that, it seems odd you would so freely give your hard-earned money to others.”

“I’ve been lucky in my life, and if I can help someone, even a little, then I will.”

“Those words you spoke to the woman, about paying a good deed forward.”

“What about them?”

“Your father says that all the time, doesn’t he?”

“He does.” Too late she realized she’d fallen into his trap. “My uncle, that is,” she hastily tried to correct herself.

“Goddamn it! I knew it!” His expression darkened and she didn’t like the look that came into his eyes. “You’re not Thomas’s niece at all, are you?” he said, staring at her like she was Judas. “You’re his bloody daughter, Aimee Thornton-Jones.”