pulled me out of that damned Lascars’ refuge. But you don’t even trust me enough to tell me what you’re doing now.”
She hadn’t thought about his feelings – not in that way. But he was right. She could at least offer him a coherent, reasonable explanation for her presence here. It was a long way from telling the truth, but it might satisfy him for the moment, even if doing so made her feel wretched. Spying was all very well. She loved disguise, and acting, and all the covert skills in which she’d been trained. Yet she hated this sort of duplicity, lying to someone whom she—
Mary cut off her train of thought. She couldn’t afford to pursue it. And James was, after all, still waiting for an explanation. It was time to produce her story. “I – I’m researching a book.” The words sounded foolish the instant they left her lips, but she could hardly backpedal now. “Investigating, I suppose you could say.” She paused, waiting for his reaction, not meeting his gaze. When he didn’t reply, she stumbled on. “It’s about the working poor in London. Whether it’s possible to make ends meet on a labourer’s wages, and the daily details and textures of an errand boy’s life. How they live, really. It’s why I’m here right now, as Mark Quinn, and also why I was at Wick’s house, nosing about in the guise of a rich, charitable lady.”
James’s eyes widened as he listened, but unlike many others, he always listened in silence. He was intent on her every word and when she stopped – she couldn’t bear to string out the lie – he let out a long, low whistle. “Never dull, are you?”
She smiled crookedly. “That’s quite a compliment, coming from a man who’s just returned from India, survived malaria, and been appointed to this safety review.”
He waved his hand impatiently. “But I’m just a stick-in-the-mud professional man. What you’re doing is really radical! I mean, Henry Mayhew does those interviews of poor Londoners in the Chronicle, of course. But for someone, especially a woman, actually to live the life? That’s original.”
She cringed. As though she hadn’t felt fraudulent enough without his excitement and admiration. And what would she do when he asked to read her work-in-progress? Then, with a pang of regret, she remembered she would no longer be in contact with James at that point. This was a cover story to protect the assignment. Once this was over, she would have to take care not to run into James again, if she valued her work as a secret agent. “I’m not sure whether it’ll work out…” she demurred.
“I’ve wondered about the life of an errand boy. How do people treat you?” A new thought occurred to him and he frowned. “You must often be in situations that are dangerous for a lady.”
“Oh…” Despite her best intentions, Mary found herself warming under his protective scrutiny. “I manage.”
“I’m sure you do.” He looked her up and down, slowly, carefully, and she felt a deep, tingling blush begin at her toes. It was all very well running about in breeches when others supposed you male, but now she felt distinctly underdressed. “Trousers become you,” he murmured.
“Had—” She cleared her throat. “Hadn’t we better get to work?”
He grinned. “The correct response, when one is complimented, is ‘Thank you’. You’ve not forgotten your manners already, young lady?”
“That’s not the sort of compliment one pays to a lady.”
“I’m so sorry. I don’t think the etiquette manuals cover this sort of situation.” He leaned in close, his lips all but grazing her neck, and inhaled. “Mmm. You smell good, too.”
She nearly choked. Took a step backwards, until her back met cold stone. “Th-thank you.”
“That’s better. May I kiss you?” His finger dipped into her shirt collar, stroking the tender nape of her neck.
“I d-don’t th-think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not? We’re alone.” His hands were at her waist.
Her lungs felt tight and much too small. “Wh-what if somebody comes in?”
He considered for a moment. “Well, I suppose they’ll think I fancy grubby little boys.”
At that she burst out laughing, and the shift in mood lent her strength to push him away slightly. “I’ve another question: when did you recognize me?”
He released her with visible reluctance. “Immediately, of course.”
“But you didn’t let on! Why not?”
He grinned, a little shyly. “No. I thought I’d see how things unfolded.”
“So you might have completed the review and disappeared, all without saying anything?”
“Would you have been