Page 35 of The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth
They both staredat each other until Elliot waved to a chair. “Won’t you have a seat?”
Elliot studied Charlotte as she moved past his neatly made bed, wooden dresser, and two chairs around a table. She no sooner sat on the blue and white striped chair facing his bed than her face flushed, and she hopped up and stammered, “Is there a drawing room?”
He tried to hide his laughter as he said, “Not exactly a drawing room, but we would be much more comfortable in my sitting room.” He led her through a door to his small, well-appointed sitting room. The furnishings had come with the flat, a rose damask settee and two rose, white, and green printed chairs forming a semi-circle around the cold fireplace. His several bookshelves were loaded with books, and his ancient desk groaned under stacks of papers.
Once she settled in the chair by the fireplace, with him taking the settee, her eyes grew wide as she took in his appearance. He wore trousers, with a banyan over it, open at the neck, revealing his bare chest, with dark swirly curls visible. A rush of heat rose to her face, and she unbuttoned her cape and began to shrug out of it.
Elliot hopped up to help her and could not help smirking at her reaction to his appearance. He folded the cape and placed it on the settee next to him.
Charlotte took a deep breath. “How did you hurt yourself, and please do not insult my intelligence by repeating that story about you falling on wet pavement.” Her eyes kept darting to his chest, licking her lips in such a way that he wanted to hoist her over his shoulder, stride to his bed, and dump her on it.
Her discomfort was causing his blood to race south. He shifted on his seat, wondering if she already suspected the attack had something to do with her. “It did happen on a wet pavement.” His grin did not appear to distract her.
“And?” She raised her cute little chin in the air.
He stood and ran his fingers through his hair. He walked to the window and rested his hands on his hips. “As you probably surmised, I was attacked on purpose.”
Charlotte followed him over to the window, and stood alongside him, taking in the sight of an apple cart being pushed down the street by a vendor. A little girl clung to her mother’s hand as they entered the bakery across the way from the building. Everything looked perfectly normal, but Charlotte’s life had not been perfectly normal for some time now.
He turned and leaned his hip against the windowsill, crossing his arms over his chest. It would probably be best if she did know the truth. He could not be with her twenty-four hours a day, and she needed to be aware that the villain making her life miserable could very well be dangerous.
Reaching his hand out, he planned to run his finger down her cheek, but stopped himself. “Whoever it was who attacked me warned me to stay away from you.”
Charlotte sucked in a deep breath. “I knew it.” She raised her fist to her mouth and shook her head. “This is all my fault.”
Elliot rested his hands on her shoulders. “No, Charlotte. This is not your fault. It is the fault of the man pursuing you, and whoever he hired to attack me.”
“So, you don’t think they are the same man?” Her beautiful eyes filled with tears, and he pulled her close to him, resting her head against his chest.
“No. I am almost certain your tormentor is someone from your social circle. Whoever attacked me was from the lowest rung of London. He’d been hired, there was no doubt.”
“Here is your tea, Mr. Baker.” Mrs. Murray, thankfully, backed into the room, pulling a rolling cart with teacups, a tea pot, and biscuits. He and Charlotte sprang apart before she could turn and catch them embracing.
Mrs. Murray had been adamant when he rented the rooms that she did not allow women to visit her “gentlemen boarders.”
“I run a respectable home, sir,” she’d said as she’d handed him the key to his door when he first took possession of the rooms. “I don’t allow women or heavy drinking. Ye pay yer rent when due, allow my girl time to come in and clean, and keep the noise down.” Her eyes had narrowed. “Ye don’t play one of those musical instruments, do ye?”
When he had assured her he had no musical talent whatsoever, she nodded and continued. “If you abide by those rules, we will get along just fine.”
Elliot had been happy the five years he’d lived here, and only recently had begun to think that the money he’d been tucking away could buy him a small house. In fact, one day he might take a wife and think about having a family. While those thoughts crowded his mind his eyes drifted over Charlotte as she poured tea for the two of them.
“You do that very well.” He reached out for the cup. “And you remembered how I like my tea.”
She smiled, then her lips tightened as she regarded his face. “Yes, pouring tea is something I believe women are born knowing. English women, at least. However, what I want to know now is where do we go from here?”
He pushed away the thoughts of the two of them, drinking tea together, having meals before a cozy fireplace, and then proceeding, hand-in-hand up to the bedchamber where they would spend leisurely hours discovering new ways to pleasure each other.
Pulling his thoughts from that dangerous path, he said, “We continue on as before. Mr. Drovers believes whoever wrote the note that came with the flowers is left-handed but wrote the note with his right hand.”
Charlotte sucked in a breath and paled. “Mr. Talbot is left-handed.”
“Is he, now? That’s interesting. Whoever it was, he was attempting to disguise his handwriting.” More than interesting, in fact. But then again, they had no reason to believe the flowers were in any way connected to the other packages. Though, given what Elliot had noticed of Mr. Talbot’s behavior, the man did seem to have atendrefor Charlotte, as well as a sense of proprietorship.
“He also made some observations on both Von Braun and the vicar’s personalities that makes me believe they need to remain on our suspect list.”
He placed his empty teacup on the table and leaned back, resting his foot on his bent knee. “We will continue appearing together at various functions until someone slips up.” Seeing the distressed expression on her face, he moved to the edge of his seat, taking her cold hand in his. “We will find the person doing this, Charlotte. And, we will put an end to it. Trust me.”
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