Page 27 of The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth
“Women sometimes are,” Charlotte said.
“When I continued to refuse, she threatened to attend with another gentleman who I knew was trying to secure her favor. I foolishly pushed the assignment off onto a constable, who was unable to handle the attempted robbery of the jewel. He was shot in the back during the scuffle, paralyzing him from the waist down.”
Charlotte turned to him, his hands dropping to her shoulders. “Oh, Elliot, how horrible. I can’t imagine how you felt.”
“Had I been thinking rationally, I would not have chosen the man, but he was the first constable available. Unfortunately, the best choice would have been for me to ignore Annabelle’s threats and do my duty.” Without conscious thought, he pulled Charlotte to his chest, and she wrapped her arms around him.
“What happened with Annabelle? Was she remorseful after what happened?”
He winced at having to tell her the end of the story. “No. No remorse. It turned out she was part of the group of men who had tried to rob the jewel.”
Charlotte sucked in a deep breath, and he tightened his hold on her. Keeping her from looking into his eyes at his disgrace? “She had been allowing my attentions while one of her partners in crime had a contact at Scotland Yard who made sure I was given the assignment.”
“Because they knew she would talk you out of it.”
“Exactly.”
They remained silent for a minute, Charlotte’s head resting on his chest. “Were Annabelle and her partners arrested?”
“Yes. I was the one to put the handcuffs on her and escort her to jail.”
Charlotte drew back and studied him. “You are not the first man to be fooled by a woman. And, most likely, not the last.”
He looked directly into her eyes. “Which is why I will never allow that to happen to me again.”
Something flickered in her eyes, but before he could consider it, she asked, “Were you fired?”
“No. The Chief Inspector tried to convince me it was a mistake in judgment, but I insisted on resigning. I no longer felt as though I had the right to call myself an inspector after that.”
“Oh, Elliot, you are so hard on yourself. The Chief Inspector was correct. It was a mistake in judgment, and horrible that the man was injured, but there’s no guarantee it would have turned out any differently if you were there instead of the constable.”
“Except I would have been the one with the injury, and not the constable.”
“I hate to sound callous, but isn’t that part of the job? I’m sure the constable knew being injured was not unheard of among policemen.”
He shook his head. “It was still my fault he was injured.”
“No, I disagree. It was the robber’s fault the constable was injured.”
“Things are either right or wrong. I was wrong.”
It was hard to believe Charlotte wasn’t appalled at what he was telling her. He confessed to a dereliction of duty, and she only felt sympathy for him, not the injured constable.Is it possible I’ve been too hard on myself?
He brushed back the hair that had fallen on her forehead. Something seemed to shift between them with his confession. She was comfortable in his arms, warm, and gently scented. This close, he could see the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes. Before he could change his mind, he dipped his head and brushed his lips over hers.
She sucked in a sharp breath but didn’t recoil. He pulled her closer and covered her mouth with his. He took the kiss deeper, gripping her head and angling it for better access. She moved her hands up to link behind his neck, her fingers playing with the hair hanging over his collar. He’d just confessed to allowing a woman to cloud his judgment to another’s peril, and what was he doing, but the same thing. He had to stop this madness.
Pulling back with the intent of gathering his senses, his eyes lighted on the silky, white skin where her neck and shoulder joined. He leaned in and feathered kisses along the tempting spot, then nibbled and soothed her silky flesh.
The carriage came to a slow roll, and then a stop. He pulled back, his breathing heavy. Charlotte’s face was flushed, and she covered her mouth with her fingers. “That should not have happened.”
Despite his dry mouth and pounding heart, he said, “Yes. I agree, and I apologize.” Taking a deep breath, he stepped out of the carriage, grateful for his great coat which covered the part of his body he did not want her neighbors to see. He turned and reached out. Uneasiness in her eyes, she accepted his hand and allowed him to help her down, and up the steps to her front door.
Attempting to return things to normal, he stopped her as the front door opened. “When is your next social event?”
She hesitated, and he could only think she was as rattled by their kiss as he was. “I’m not sure if you would consider it a social event, but many of my friends are at church Sunday mornings. This week there is a luncheon following the service. We all contribute a dish.”
“Will there be men there I haven’t met before?
“Yes. But I hardly think—”
“What time shall I stop by to escort you?”
She gave a soft sigh. “The service begins at ten, so nine-thirty would give us enough time to arrive and place my food offering in the hall.”
“Nine-thirty Sunday, it is.” He bowed and hurried down the steps, hoping he could outrun the hounds of hell nipping at his heels.
