“We’re here!” Chloe called out as the carriage rocked to a blessed halt.
The door opened and Chloe hurried past her brother and, with the help of the driver, stepped down. Gabriel lingered a moment and she swallowed, not wanting any probing questions because she feared in her weakness this moment she’d confess all—and then be promptly dismissed. He exited the carriage and reached back inside.
Dropping her gaze to his long, outstretched fingers, she recalled the manner in which he’d caressed one of her strands of hair. Cheeks afire, Jane hurriedly took his hand and let him hand her down.
“I must confess, Jane,” he confided so quietly those words were nearly lost to London’s street sounds. “I have a desire,” her breath caught, “to know what has you go silent one moment and prickly and feisty the next.”
For the span of a heartbeat, she thought to pretend she did not hear that question. But then she detected the challenge in his eyes. “Bold employers,” she tossed back and started forward to where Chloe stood in wait at the shop front. The young lady smiled and then sailed through the entrance.
Jane hurried after her, desperate for much needed distance from the marquess.
He called out. “And are you accustomed to bold employers?” His words brought her to a slow halt. There was a lethal edge to his question, as though he’d do battle should she utter an affirmative.
No one had cared about her or for her in so very long. Even to her mother, Jane had merely come second to the Duke of Ravenscourt’s scandalous use of her. “N-no,” she stammered and made to enter the shop, but Gabriel blocked her path.
“You’re lying.”
He couldn’t know that. Not truly. She shook her head once more. “I’m—” Her breath caught as he dipped his head lower. Jane’s heart thumped erratically and she should be horrified by the curious stares being shot their way by passersby, but instead only knew the intoxicating scent of sandalwood threatening to drown her senses.
“Do you know how I know you’re lying, Jane?” He didn’t allow her a reply. “Because a woman of your spirit would not accept the charge of liar being ascribed to you, unless there was, in fact, merit to my claims.”
“I worked at Mrs. Belden’s Finishing School. There was hardly a worry where gentlemen were concerned.” She forced a droll humor to her tone, praying it would distract him from the intimate understanding he’d show of both her temperament and circumstances. “I assure you, Mrs. Belden would not countenance a gentleman within her proper walls.” She flicked her stare over his person. “Even if he was a marquess.” A duke, however, would be granted certain freedoms. Jane slipped past him and entered the shop. Such as taking on that powerful nobleman’s by-blow.
Gabriel fell into step beside her. “And were you long at Mrs. Belden’s?”
“Yes.” A year was a long time for some.
“What of before that?”
She gritted her teeth, as all the tender awe of his early concern was replaced with annoyance. Questions were dangerous. Particularly when all the answers brought them back to the truth of her lies. “Before that I was employed as a governess.”
“A governess?” he asked with some surprise.
“Yes, a governess.” To a spoiled, nasty, and not at all pleasant sixteen-year-old lady who’d quite enjoyed the day Jane had been sacked without a reference.
“Jane?”
They looked to the long table at the back of the shop littered with bolts of fabric. Chloe stood beside a plump, graying woman of indiscriminate years. Grateful for the young lady’s timely intervention, Jane all but sprinted in that direction. Her skin burned with the feel of Gabriel’s gaze on her person.
“Ah, there you are, Jane,” Chloe said. She motioned to her. “Madame Clairemont, this is my companion.”
“A pleasure.” The woman peered down her very un-French nose at Jane, indicating her opinion on the acquaintance.
Jane stole a backward glance at Gabriel. He stood off to the side, leaning against the wall. With his arms folded against his broad chest and his hooded gaze upon her, he was elegant in his repose. She quickly snapped her gaze forward.