Lucien could not prevent the urge to offer a mocking bow. "Your confidence is overwhelming as always. I can only attempt to live up to your high expectations."
"Go."
One
Although Miss Jocelyn Kingly had never before encountered the devil, she was fairly certain he was currently sitting in her front parlor.
It was not so much his appearance that made her think of the Lord of the Netherworld, she grudgingly conceded.
Indeed, he might have been a beloved angel with his long, tawny curls that framed a lean countenance and brushed his wide shoulders. His eyes were a pure, shimmering gold with long black lashes that would make any woman gnash her teeth in envy. His features were carved with a delicate male beauty.
But there was nothing angelic in the decided glint of wicked humor in those magnificent eyes and sensuous cut of those full lips.
And, of course, the indecent charm of those deep dimples.
She should have sent him on his way the moment he arrived upon her doorstep. Not even for a moment should she be considering the notion of allowing such a disturbing gentleman into her home.
She would have to be mad.
When she had first been struck with the notion of renting her attics, it had been with the prospect of discovering a quiet, comfortable tenant. Someone who would not disturb the peace of her household.
Unfortunately there were few such tenants who desired to live in a neighborhood that hovered on the edge of the stews. The local pickpockets and prostitutes did not possess the funds to pay the rent, even if she were to consider allowing them into her home. And the few gentlemen who possessed businesses in the area already owned their own property, usually far from St. Giles.
Which left Lucien Valin.
A shiver raced down her spine.
If only she were not in such desperate need of money.
If only it were not a full two months until her quarterly allowance.
If only...
Her lips twitched with wry humor. She could devote the next fortnight to listing the "if-onlys"
in her life. Now was not the time for such futile longings.
She better than anyone understood that the mistakes of the past could not be altered. One could only ensure that they were not repeated.
Unconsciously straightening her spine Jocelyn forced herself to meet that piercing golden gaze. It came as no surprise to discover her visitor's lips were twitching as if he were amused by her obvious hesitation.
"So, Miss Kingly, was the newspaper in error?" he prodded in that husky, faintly accented voice. "Do you have rooms to let or not?"
The voice of a devil. Jocelyn sucked in a steadying breath. Devil or not, he was the only potential tenant who offered the cold, hard coin she so desperately needed.
There had to be something said for that. Unfortunately.
"There are rooms," she agreed in cautious tones. "However, I feel it incumbent to warn you that they are located in the garret and are quite cramped. I am uncertain that a gentleman of your large proportions would find them at all comfortable."
His slender, powerful hands moved to steeple beneath his chin, the golden eyes shimmering in the slanting morning sunlight.
"Do not fear, I am tall, but thankfully, quite intelligent. I need hit my head upon the rafters on only a handful of occasions to recall to duck."
"There is also our unfortunate proximity to the slaughterhouses. The stench can be unbearable on some days."
"I have discovered that there are few places in London that are not plagued with one unpleasant odor or another. Not even Mayfair is unaffected."
Jocelyn maintained her calm demeanor with an effort. She never allowed herself to be ruffled.