Page 31 of His Improper Lady

She narrowed her eyes at him, studying him. “Honestly?”

“Yes, honestly. I’m telling you the truth. Why would I sit outside your house? You were at the club, weren’t you?”

“Yes. You could have come to break in.”

“That’s more in your line,” Tom retorted, and Wells let out a short laugh that he quickly turned into a cough.

“Sorry,” Wells said when Desiree turned to focus her glare on him. “But he does have you there, Dez.”

Tom decided her brother was less irritating than he had thought.

“I could be like some and presume that everything you say is a lie,” Desiree told Tom with heavy significance. She swiped her hand through the air. “However, I choose to believe you. This time.”

Her brother looked at her with an odd intensity, saying, “You’re sure?”

“Yes, he’s telling the truth.” She turned back toward Tom and gestured toward the table. “Sit down and have some breakfast. This is my brother Wells, by the way.”

Tom nodded to Wells in greeting. “Thank you. I already ate. I want to talk about this carriage.”

“As do I.” Wells poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Tom.

Tom took a sip and sat down across from Desiree. “Why did you assume it was me?”

“It seemed the logical choice,” Desiree replied. “Given that you did the same thing the other night.”

“What did they do? What did the carriage look like?” Tom asked.

“It was just sitting there, in the darkest spot of the street, and when I started toward it, it left.” She shrugged. “Perhaps it didn’t have anything to do with me,” she said, but her tone lacked conviction.

“You didn’t get a look at who was inside?” Wells asked, sitting down beside his sister.

“No. The curtains were drawn, and the driver was blocking the front window.” Desiree stopped, her brow creasing.

“What? You’ve remembered something.” Tom leaned forward, sensing something important.

Desiree nodded slowly. “Yes. The carriage was...a little odd. I didn’t really think about it at the time. It just seemed somehow off, but looking back on it, I realize that the driver wasn’t sitting up on a high seat. He was right in front of the passenger. So it gave it a...a low look. It’s not a huge difference, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a coach exactly like that.” Using the saltcellar and jam pots, she demonstrated the two different silhouettes.

Tom frowned, trying to envision the vehicle. “I’m not sure I’ve seen one, either.”

“I have,” Wells said. “In America.”

“America?”

“Yes. I saw a number of them when I was in New York City. They’re quite popular in the States.”

“So it was an American spying on her?” Tom’s voice rose skeptically.

“Only if they brought their carriage with them,” Wells replied. “Seems a bit excessive, doesn’t it?”

“Is it any less likely that an Englishman imported a carriage from the United States?” Desiree countered.

“Maybe there’s a company here that copied the design,” Tom suggested.

“True. Or maybe a company on the Continent makes them,” Desiree added. “They’d be easier to import from there than hauling one all the way across the ocean.”

“Yes. I need to see if I can track down a company that makes them,” Tom said. “If the thing is rare, it might be easy to find who owns it.”

“Why would you want to find the carriage?” she asked.