Page 105 of The Siren of Sussex

“Why would she listen? You’re a stranger. She’s not likely to even receive you.” Evelyn shook her head. “No. It must be me. I can take Lewis with me, or—”

“Your aged groom? Good God, Evie, this isn’t your village in Sussex.”

Her gaze flew to his.

He belatedly realized that he’d not only used her given name, he’d used the affectionate diminutive reserved for those closest to her. An intimacy upon an intimacy.

Damn and blast.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I didn’t—”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind it. It’s just—”

“You’re worried about your sister. I understand.” He raked a hand through his hair. “If you insist upon going there—”

“I do insist.”

“—you’ll need an escort who knows what he’s about. Who isn’t going to blunder into the place and get you both hurt.”

“An escort.” She looked at him steadily. “Do you mean . . . yourself?”

Bloody hell.

He supposed he did.

She wasn’t his responsibility. Not by any means. He was her dressmaker, not her protector. Having delivered his note, he should back away and be done with it. He knew that.

But he couldn’t trust her safety to anyone else.

“It would have to be at night,” he said. “Under cover of darkness. Otherwise, you run the risk of us being seen together.”

A defiant flush bloomed in her face. “I’m not ashamed of being seen with you.”

An answering warmth threatened in his own. He ruthlessly suppressed it. “It’s not about that. It’s about the fact that being caught with me outside of the tailor’s shop will cause as much damage to your reputation as your being seen in a dockside inn.”

She didn’t argue the point.

He was grateful for that much. Determination she had in abundance, but she was no fool.

“After dark, then,” she said. “But let it be soon.” A weighted pause. “Let it be tonight.”

Ahmad stared down at her in silence, his heart thudding an unmistakable warning.

He had the sense they were breaching some unspoken barrier. A wall they’d been gradually chipping away at. It had stood between them from the first moment they’d met. The same impenetrable barrier that separated every man and woman of different races, different classes. One forged long ago, fortified with centuries of fear, resentment, and mistrust.

He didn’t know what lay beyond it. But once crossed, there would be no going back.

He nodded once. “Tonight.”

Twenty-One

Ahmad helped Evelyn into the dark interior of the hired coach. Her face and figure were shrouded by the drape of a drab wool cloak. The cab rocked as he climbed in after her. Closing the door, he sank down at her side. A brougham only seated two. It was a tight fit. They were shoulder to shoulder, her full skirts bunched against his leg. He angled himself to give them more room.

And not only that.

He wanted to see her face.

As the brougham sprang into motion, the single interior lamp bounced in time with the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves echoing on the cobblestones. It cast a shifting light over Evelyn’s countenance.