Page 27 of A Scandal at Stonecliffe

Verity nodded. “He’s looking more and more a villain. Why go to the trouble of moving unless it’s to keep you from knowing where he is.”

“What are we to do next?” Nathan went on. “We can’t check every inn in London. Besides, he could have rented a flat or a house. Or moved in with his uncle—he said he’d been expecting Malcolm.”

“Why go to his uncle now? He didn’t before, and I can only assume that it was because he wanted to keep this scheme a secret from the man.”

“Yes. Robert Douglas seemed a decent sort.”

“And talkative,” Verity pointed out. “The fewer people know a secret the better—and especially a man prone to chat.”

“Still, that doesn’t narrow our search much.”

“No. But right now, I think the only choice we have is to wait and see what Malcolm’s next move is. A blackmailer always turns up again,” Verity said.

“Oh. Well...then I suppose we won’t be together. That is, I mean, getting together to search or...whatever.” Nathan’s spirits fell. Sitting alone in his room for days waiting seemed a dismal prospect.

“I suppose not.”

He couldn’t tell from her tone whether she was glad or sorry. “Although...you know, isn’t it possible he might prefer to contact us somewhere other than our homes? He doesn’t want us to know where he is, but he wouldn’t like meeting us again on our territory, so to speak. We could continue our charade, go to a play or ball or so on.”

“Make it easier for him to approach us?” She smiled up at Nathan, her eyes twinkling in a way that told him she saw right through his excuse. They had no way of knowing where Malcolm was or if they would run into him. Nathan didn’t mind; actually finding the blackmailer seemed less fun than the chase.

They strolled back to her house. Nathan knew they must look extremely odd, the gentleman and the urchin, but it was too enjoyable. He bought Verity a Banbury cake from a street vendor, and she ate it as they walked, seemingly undeterred by the dirt on her hands that she’d acquired in her role.

As they turned a corner, a lady and her maid emerged from a house down the street. Nathan narrowed his eyes, peering at the woman. “Isn’t that the woman you were watching in the park?”

Verity choked on her bite of cake and her head snapped up, her eyes going to the woman. She whirled and walked quickly back the way they’d come.

“Verity?” Nathan gazed after her for a moment, then turned to look again at the women walking toward him. He was certain that it was the same pair, though without the baby. He followed Verity. She was walking so fast, it was almost a run, and Nathan had to break into a trot to catch up with her. “Verity? What was that all about? Who is that woman?”

“It’s not important.” Her voice was a trifle shaky. “Just business. You know.”

“Not really.” Nathan regarded her curiously. He could not remember ever seeing Verity this rattled, her cheeks flushed and her breath uneven. And he was certain these signs didn’t come from exertion. “You think she would have recognized you? You’re in disguise, after all.”

“Well, um, I have spoken to her up close, you see.” She added, “And I was dressed like a man then, as well.”

“You’re not lying as well as you do normally.”

Verity looked at him, her eyes filled with a sorrow and regret that he had never seen there, and she said, “You don’t carry any secrets, do you?”

She seemed so lost and vulnerable in that moment that it pierced him. Nathan was sure that the woman they’d just seen was more important than someone Verity was being paid to watch. “Verity, if there’s something wrong, if you need help, I would do whatever I could to—”

“I don’t need help.” Her face set into stubborn lines. “And there’s nothing you can do.”

“I know you think I am incapable,” he returned, nettled. “But I’m not entirely without skills.”

“There’s nothing anyone can do. And it has no bearing on what we’re doing.”

“So now you’re the one who says we’re only business, not friends.”

She cast him an exasperated glance out of the corner of her eye. “I didn’t say that.”

“Then I am your friend?” Nathan wasn’t sure why he was pressing the issue. Verity had every right to not tell him anything. But somehow it rankled—she knew all sorts of things about him, but now that she was feeling something true, something deep, she wouldn’t share that part of herself.

“Yes,” she replied in a goaded voice. “You’re my friend.”

He smiled to himself, inordinately pleased at her admission. “Well, some people find it helpful to talk to their friends.”

Verity rolled her eyes as they rounded the corner to her flat. She marched inside, and Nathan followed. “I don’t have that kind of friend,” she said over her shoulder as she started up the stairs.