Mr Chance stood clutching the box he had stolen two weeks ago and stared into her eyes. He was no longer grinning like the sinful scoundrel who had kissed her at the theatre. He offered no teasing retorts or wicked suggestions. From his strained expression, he knew nothing he could say would make this right.
“The destination is unimportant,” she lied, her throat tightening at the thought of abandoning everything she had worked so hard to achieve. How many ladies of six and twenty had the skills to dress London’s elite? “I don’t care where I go as long as it’s far from England’s shores.”
“May I ask why?”
“You may not.” It was too late to care now. He sealed her fate when he stole her box. “The secret might cost me my life. I’ll not place you in danger. Not when I bear some responsibility for you being shot outside my shop.” Having seen her beloved home ravaged by blackguards, surely he knew to heed her advice. “See me to Dover—or Portsmouth if you prefer—then put this dreaded business behind you. Forget you ever met me.”
“It’s not that simple.” He opened the box and peered inside as if it were something of the devil’s own design. “I cannot forget the part I played. My thoughtless actions are the cause of your ruin. I will—”
“Greed was my downfall, Mr Chance. Greed, and an elevated notion of being the most famed modiste of the decade. The fight for financial security can cloud a lady’s judgement.”
Guilt plagued her, too. The crippling guilt that came with knowing she had stolen someone else’s life. Every breath she took was not her own but made in her beloved mother’s memory.
“It’s not a sin to want a stable future,” he said, unaware of the real issue. “To excel, one must take risks. I assume that’s how you’re in this predicament. Do you owe a debt you cannot pay?”
A fear of failure was the root of her problem.
The risk of bankruptcy was great indeed.
Thieves stole silk from shipments. Bolts arrived ruined. The middle-aged clerk at the shipping office tried to bribe her with reduced costs on imports if she dined with him each Friday.
One sly remark at a ball was enough to relegate her design to the compost heap. Gowns would need unpicking and altered. Eleanor would spend endless hours trying to save the expensive material. All while her father’s dying demand was like the prod of a pistol in her back.
Your mother dreamed of having her own shop. You’ll do it for her. Don’t let me down, girl. You owe her your life. It’s the least you can do.
Though her father had died five years ago, his veiled contempt was still a crushing weight on her shoulders. His gentle jibes still hurt more than the stab of a blade.
“While your actions have made it impossible for me to remain in town, Mr Chance, I got myself into this regrettable mess.” Much like his silly wager, what began as an innocent game had cost her everything. “There remains but one way to evade my tormentor.”
“You’re fooling yourself if you think you can escape your problems.” He retreated to the dim depths of his chamber. Perhaps he thought she needed space to think. Perhaps he hoped to entice her to confess every wicked secret. “Is that how you want to spend your life, always looking over your shoulder? Forever living in fear?”
“If I live to see tomorrow, it will be a blessing.”
He fell silent as he sat on the edge of the carved ebony bed. Bracing his arms on his muscular thighs, he turned the box over in his hands and examined the carved appliqués.
“In my defence, there is nothing here to warrant concern,” he said, looking a little baffled. “How could I have known what this meant to you?”
“You couldn’t. As a modiste, I’m an expert illusionist.”
She dared to move from the safety of the shadowy corner, where she had sat crying for an hour because the box was not wedged between the mattress and headboard as he’d claimed.
“What you do with pearls and lace is short of a miracle.”
She couldn’t help but smile at the inflated compliment. “A skilled seamstress can find work almost anywhere. Though if I’m to have any future, I must leave town tonight.”
He said nothing for a moment, and left her tuning into the cadence of his breathing, inhaling the exotic smell of sandalwood and clove filling the air. Who would have thought a woman would feel calm in Theodore Chance’s seductive bedchamber?
“You were right earlier when you said I feel safe in the dark.” He shifted left and patted the plush blue coverlet. “Sit. Permit me to explain why.”
“I know why.” She didn’t have time to waste, but this man was a conundrum. One stern look, and he appeared as dangerous as the devil. But this softer side, the tender heart beneath the rugged exterior, drew her like a moth to a flame. “Delphine told me.”
The corners of his mouth curled into a smile. “And I thought we were kindred spirits, and you had an innate ability to see into my soul.”
“I’m just a desperate woman seeking a way to reclaim my box,” she admitted. Too many lies had passed between them. “My actions stem from selfish motives.”
“I think that’s the first time you’ve been honest with me.” Again, he patted the space beside him. “Before we discuss your problem, allow me to tell you a secret. One I have never shared.”
He knew how to get a woman’s attention.
The offer was too tempting to resist. Yet the candid look in his eyes and the sincerity coating his voice softened her resolve.
Eleanor sat beside him, the proximity causing an odd flutter in her throat. “How do I know you won’t lie? How do I know this isn’t another one of your boyish games?”
“Boyish games? Clearly you have never wagered with Aramis.” He shook his head as if ridding himself of an amusing memory. “I could say the same about you, Miss Darrow. How am I ever to trust a word from your lips? But if I’m to save your life, we must both put a foot on the road to reparation.”
Being certain that ‘saving her life’ meant helping her to reach a busy port, she had no option but to agree. “I’m not convinced we can move beyond all that has happened, but I need your help and will hear your secret. If only to appease you.”
He stared at the intricate blue pattern on the rug. “Everything Delphine told you is true.” A sad sigh escaped him. “When a boy sleeps on the street, his only thought is evading detection. The shadows become one’s friend, not one’s enemy.”
“Most people would say daylight is their salvation.”
“Those people have never looked into the eyes of the beasts who wander the rookeries, preying on the innocent and meek.”
“Delphine said you were homeless for a month before you found lodgings with a bookshop owner in Lime Street.”
Eleanor had never known such hardship. On his deathbed, her father insisted she leave the pretty village of Eynsford. He had written it into his will along with a list of other demands. The seven hundred pounds she’d inherited came with conditions, a heavy burden she had lugged past Eynsford’s mottled milestone.
