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“Modesty is just another falsehood. Not to say that I am an entirely honest person, but I pick my battles, Monsieur Gunning. And I win them all.”

“Not an entirely honest person,” Ford said with a thoughtful hum. “Now, that is an understatement.”

She looked out of the window, her chest still furiously rising and falling with the strength of her breaths. She was still out of sorts. That speech had taken a lot from her. He wondered how long she’d waited to say something like this to a man in power—or at least, with more power than her. What impressed him more was how easily she had understood him. This was the third time they’d met. Yet, still, she read him like a book and spat out the facts about his character many others wouldn’t have dared. For he would have stolen and killed for his sister. Yes, he was the upholder of the law. But flip the circumstances and he would easily be on the wrong side of the fence.

“I suppose I would have to slightly revise my beliefs,” he said thoughtfully. “You’ve made some excellent points. Although, I do not completely agree with you and am not quite comfortable arguing the details yet.”

She turned to him, surprise shining in her eyes, and slowly, her lips spread into a beautiful smile. “To be honest, I didn’t expect you to declare defeat so easily. I am glad I was wrong about you. I took you for an unbending force.”

The images that phrase conjured in this mind weren’t exactly innocent. For if she thought him unbending, he thought of her as… quite flexible. At least, physically. He attempted to tamp down his thoughts.

“I’ll take what I can get. But we can’t have you brooding at the dinner party.” She reached into her cloak pocket and, after fumbling for a moment, extended her arm toward him, a bundle of cloth nestling in her palm.

He raised a brow. “Is that a peace offering?”

She smiled. “Think of it as a bribe.”

He eyed the offering wearily. “I’d rather not.”

She nudged the bundle toward him once more. “And yet?”

“I don’t take bribes,” he said, reaching toward her hand warily.

She smiled. “I promise you, you will like this one.”

He unwrapped the handkerchief only to find a piece of bread and cheese.

He raised a brow, not certain she could see his questioning expression.

“I thought you might want a bite of food. You never know how long we are going to be there.”

She wasn’t wrong. He hadn’t eaten in quite a few hours. “I should probably start the same habit of carrying around a piece of bread with me,” he said. “I don’t always have enough time to stop and eat.” He took a bite of food and said around the bite, “Or perhaps I should just carry you around.”

She laughed. “Let’s hope our partnership will not last that long. I’d like to get back to my normal life.”

The sound of Madame Tricheuse’s laughter was a complex mixture of mirth and melancholy that stirred something within him. He studied her profile as she gazed out the carriage window, noting the tension in her jaw, the slight furrow of her brow.

Her words stung more than he cared to admit. Of course, she wanted to return to her life—why wouldn’t she? Still, a part of him had begun to enjoy their unlikely alliance, dangerous as it was.

The carriage lurched to an abrupt halt. Ford swallowed the last piece of bread, barely tasting it in his haste. Grace turned toward him, laughter pulling on her lips. “You have a little… let me—” She reached out and brushed the crumbs that clung to his chin, the gentle touch of her gloves and warmth of her skin beneath causing a tickle to appear low in his belly. “All done.” She pulled away, just as the door opened before them.

Ford cleared his throat. “Shall we?”

Chapter 11

Grace hopped onto the pavement with Mr. Gunning’s help.

He offered his elbow and she took it, walking by his side. She hadn’t attended a masquerade or a dance in quite a while. The speed with which her heart drummed against her chest told her she was excited to be back.

Once she defected from Hades, her life had become quite busy. Running a brothel all by herself instead of being an advisor and a proprietress of a small part of an established gaming hell was a lot different. She had a load of work she hadn’t imagined was possible.

She enjoyed it very much and was looking forward to the daily grind. Yet, she was ecstatic at the idea of playing a part at a very debauched event.

She had a gorgeous gown on, but despite what she had told Mr. Gunning, she didn’t have much opportunity to wear it. And she had a gorgeous man on whose arm to hang.

Mr. Gunning was looking quite dapper as well. She never imagined she would ever see him wearing a cravat of all things! His dark blue coat and black breeches also complemented Grace’s gown perfectly. They wouldn’t look more like a couple even if they tried.

“Remember,” he said in a half-whisper, “this is the most debauched party of high society.”