Since the shocking theft at the cobblers, Mr Franklin kept his nose pressed to the window most days, searching for the elusive culprit.
“They suspect a vagrant entered my shop, hunting for food.” She hated lying but could not confess to being attacked in her yard and hounded by a devious devil. Wielding spades and batons, the shopkeepers would charge down to the Puddle Dock, determined to make someone pay for the crime. “Based on the damage caused, the vagabond must have been ravenous.”
She introduced Mr Chance and the air turned frosty.
The men scrutinised each other with obvious suspicion.
“You’re the gentleman who was shot by that thug last month,” Mr Franklin said, eyeing her companion. “Being so close to the Thames, we get all sorts of riffraff wandering up from the barges and merchant ships.”
Mr Chance hardened his stare. “I was shot while protecting my sister. Indeed, I’m duty-bound to ensure Miss Darrow receives no further trouble.” He drew his calling card from his pocket and thrust it into Mr Franklin’s calloused hand. “Miss Darrow will reside with a friend until her affairs are in order. Should you notice anything untoward, do your civic duty and report it to me.”
Mr Franklin arched a brow as he read the elegant script. “You’re a gambling man,” he stated with a touch of disdain.
“I run a gaming club. Only a fool stakes his future on the dice.”
Mr Franklin clearly feared for Eleanor’s safety. He leaned forward, his brows furrowed in quiet concern. “If you’d like to remain in Holborn, we have a spare room. Anna would be glad of your company. You’ve been of great help to my sister. Her needlework is much improved.”
Eleanor smiled. “That is most kind, sir. Miss Franklin is an excellent student, but I hope to return home in a day or two. I have merely come to assess the damage.”
Mr Franklin looked a tad disappointed. “Well, the invitation stands if you change your mind.”
“I doubt she will,” Mr Chance said bluntly.
A tense silence ensued before the silversmith mentioned the vagrant. “I suppose the rascal ruined your silk. I saw Emily moving the bolts this morning. Well, I say this morning, but it was just before dawn. The poor girl was up with the larks.”
While Eleanor reeled from the surprising news, Mr Chance said, “Emily?”
“A seamstress I employ when work demands it.” She kept a calm tone though many questions danced in her mind. Emily had no reason to visit the shop, and certainly not at the crack of dawn. “Emily mentioned borrowing her father’s cart, hence the early hour.”
That was another lie.
But how else was she to gain information?
“Yes, she came with an older man I didn’t recognise.”
“I’m visiting Emily this evening to take an inventory of the stock she saved. I’m sure she will be relieved to learn business will resume soon.” She thanked Mr Franklin and bid him good day.
Mr Chance waited until the fellow crossed the road before offering his expert opinion on the minds of men. “Franklin wants you.”
She wasn’t being vain when she said, “I know.”
“I expect many women think he’s handsome.”
“I expect they do.” Her fingers shook as she unlocked the door. A fear of what she might find was the cause, though Mr Chance presumed otherwise.
“Does Franklin always make you nervous?”
She might have fed him a tale as part of their game but could not risk paying a forfeit. “He doesn’t make me nervous. You’re the only man who raises my pulse.”
“I am?”
“Don’t sound so pleased. Most of the time I’m angry.”
The overhead bell tinkled as Eleanor entered the shop. The once welcoming melody had a sad ring to it now. Her gaze fell to the mess on the floor, her property scattered like the remnants of a shipwreck washed ashore. She doubted anything was salvageable.
“It grieves me to admit it, but I have made a dreadful mess of everything.” Tears welled. Misfortune had plagued her since birth. This shop was her mother’s dream, her father’s legacy. Disappointed, her parents must be turning in their graves. “I have felt powerless many times. None more so than now.”
The stab of failure cut deep.
The gentle touch of Mr Chance’s hand on her back preceded his thoughtful comment. “Things aren’t as bad as they seem. I could have the place straightened in no time.”
To prove the point, he retrieved two pairs of gloves, dusted them off and placed them neatly on the glass counter.
The man’s charm was impossible to ignore. Confidence oozed from every pore. Eleanor stole a glance at his muscular thighs as he crouched to complete the task. While the sight roused heat in her belly, the kind gesture made her heart race like a runaway carriage.
She bent down to help him.
Their fingers brushed as they reached for the same glove.
“You don’t need an excuse to touch me,” he said, a teasing twinkle in his eyes. “You don’t even need to ask.”
Like a moth to a flame, his allure was irresistible. “After our interlude at the theatre, why would I want to touch you again? You satisfied my curiosity.”
His smile turned sinful. “Did I? I don’t see how. The things a man can do with his hands are limitless.”
It took mental strength not to conjure an erotic image.
“Mr Franklin said a similar thing only last week.” The lie left her lips before she could reclaim it.
