To Taste Temptation (Legend of the Four Soldiers #1)(90)

“I hope you don’t mind my entering unannounced,” Mr. Thornton said. “I’ve come to call upon Mr. Hartley.”

“I’m afraid my brother isn’t here,” Rebecca said. “In fact, I believe that he’s gone to see your shop, Mr. Thornton, on Starling Lane. No, I’m sorry.” The girl shook her head in irritation. “That’s where he went yesterday. Today he’s looking for you on Dover Street.”

Emeline glanced at the girl sharply. Her face was relaxed and open, the only mar a trace of irritation at being interrupted. Either she was a very good actress or Samuel hadn’t confided his suspicions about Mr. Thornton to his sister.

But Mr. Thornton had stilled. “Starling Lane, you say? How interesting. I wonder why Mr. Hartley went there yesterday? I haven’t had a shop there since I returned from the war six years ago.”

“Really?” Rebecca frowned. “Perhaps Samuel thought you had two shops.”

“That may be. In any case, I’m sorry to have missed him.” Mr. Thornton looked longingly at the tea being set up by the maid.

“As are we,” Emeline said tightly. “Perhaps if you hurry, you will find him at your establishment.”

“But then again, we might pass each other as we travel,” Mr. Thornton said smoothly. “And wouldn’t that be a shame?”

“You can stay here and join us for tea while you wait for my brother’s return,” Rebecca said.

“Lovely, just lovely.” Mr. Thornton bowed and sat. “You are graciousness itself, Miss Hartley.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Rebecca said as she poured. “It’s only tea.”

“Yes, but many wouldn’t be so gracious”—he shot a sly look at Emeline—“to a working man and all. Why, I’m a simple cobbler at heart.”

“But you own your establishment,” Rebecca objected.

“Oh, indeed, indeed. I have a grand workshop. But it’s all built up by the sweat of my own brow. My father’s business was quite small.”

“Really?” Rebecca asked politely. “I didn’t know that.”

Mr. Thornton shook his head ruefully as if at the memory of his father’s small business. “I took it over right after I came back from the war in the Colonies. Six years ago, that was. Six long years of hard labor and worry to bring my business to what it is today. Why, I do declare, that I’d kill any man who sought to take my business from me.”

Rebecca was looking curiously at Mr. Thornton now. His words, after all, had been far too emphatic for the conversation. Emeline held her breath, watching the man, and as she stared, he did a very strange thing. He cocked his head at her, grinned widely, and winked one eye.

And Emeline felt a thrill of horror shoot through her completely out of proportion to the gesture he’d made.

SAM RODE HOME through the streets of London in a state of angry frustration. Thornton was neither at his home nor his place of business. Some of the information he’d learned today caused him to be anxious that Thornton might try to flee. This together with a kind of animal instinct made urgent the need to find Thornton immediately. Long years of hunting told him that his prey was about to bolt beyond his grasp. If he couldn’t find Thornton today, he’d have to give up the berths he’d bought for Rebecca and himself on The Hopper, sailing early on the morrow.

Then, too, staying longer in London would mean more days in proximity to Emeline. He wasn’t certain he could bear being close to her without going stark, raving mad.

A street urchin ran almost directly under his horse’s nose. The horse sidestepped nervously, and Sam had to pay attention to the reins for a moment. The child was long gone, of course. The boy had probably had thousands of such near-misses in his young life, for the streets of London seemed more like a surging river than a thoroughfare. Hawkers screamed their wares at corners and indeed in the middle of the street. Carriages trundled like elephants, inevitably blocking the way with their bulk. Chairmen bearing sedan chairs wove nimbly among the crowd. And people—men, women, children; infants in arms to old men with canes; high, low, and the multitude in between—all crowded round, each on their own business, each in a hurry to get there. It was a wonder that the very air wasn’t used up, inhaled by thousands of lungs.

Sam felt his own lungs seize at the thought, the illusion of all the air being sucked from the atmosphere infecting his brain. But that was nonsense. He concentrated on his horse and the path immediately in front of them, trying to block out the rest of the humanity surrounding them. He could breathe. There was plenty of air, though it reeked of sewage, rot, and smoke. There wasn’t anything at all wrong with his lungs.

He repeated these thoughts until the town house came into view. Rebecca would still be packing, but perhaps he could entice her to stop long enough for an early luncheon. He swung down from his horse just as one of the lumbering carriages drew up to the house next door—Emeline’s house. The crest on the polished black door bore Vale’s coat of arms. Sam quickened his step into his own house. There was no point in meeting Vale again; all that could be said had already been said there.

Inside, he gave his hat and cloak to the butler and inquired where his sister was.

“Miss Hartley has just left, sir,” the butler replied.

“Indeed?” Sam frowned. Had she gone to do some last-minute shopping? “How long ago?”