Page 32

She risked a glance at him. He kept his gaze straight ahead. “Yes, but no one thinks the less of you for knowing them. No one imagines that you aren’t a gentleman, or that your person is an item for sale.”

“Are you proposing to walk the length of the street alone to discover whether some man thinks you know things?” He sounded as if he thought her mad.

“Not necessary.” She pulled out her notebook again. “I just need to get a sense of the place to know what women shoppers will face. Give me the names of a few shops.”

“Which way are you going?”

She pointed east.

“Try the Pantheon Bazaar, then.”

She stopped. She had heard of the bazaar. Bazaars had become a sort of phenomenon in London, a place for merchants to sell their wares under one roof, while the organizer of the bazaar provided amenities like tea rooms and exhibits, dressing rooms and performances. The concept had its proponents and detractors. She would see for herself. “I will. Thank you.”

He frowned. “If any man bothers you…”

“No matter. I’ll handle it. Don’t follow me.” She set off.

“Don’t shoot anyone.”

She sent him another swift glare over her shoulder. He stood with his hand pressed to his side.

“I’ll give my ribs a rest,” he said. “Meet me at the West End dining rooms in an hour, Viv, or I will come looking for you.”