Why, by this time she could even look forward to the bit of time she had coming to her. What adventures she intended. And not for tomorrow. Today was the thing. Right this very moment.
Laura straightened her skirts and strengthened her grip on her new parasol. Her hair lay expertly coifed under an elegantly feathered chapeau. An undetectable touch of cosmetics brightened her complexion and lips. Her frightfully expensive gown fitted superbly over delectable silk under-things. She wore the confident air of a woman who knew she appeared at the height of fashion.
The only accessory that did not coordinate perfectly was the expensive malacca cane, the one with the hidden catch, a sword cane. Just carrying the thing made her feel totally invincible for the moment.
Heads turned as she entered the Everton Building of Public Offices and crossed to the ironwork lift. They recognized a woman with a purpose when they saw one, Laura thought with a lift of her chin and a secret smile. Death be damned. Today she would begin living every single moment to the hilt. And given a bit of luck and a little more time, she would hire Mr. Sean Wilder to help her do it.
Once she reached the third floor, Wilder Investigations proved easy enough to find. The opaque, half-glass door stenciled gold and black with the company name stood open.
Laura allowed herself a moment to observe the man she had come to see. She watched the broad back and shoulders stretch against a dark brown gabardine coat. He was even larger than she remembered.
Conservative dresser, she mused. The earthen hues he seemed to prefer accentuated his coloring. Like the suit he had worn on his visit to the country, this one seemed designed to avoid ostentation. Not pricey, yet hardly cheap, and cut extremely well. No jaunty plaids or racy houndstooth for this fellow. His clothes were ordinary to a fault. Considering his extraordinary physique, however, Laura knew very well he could not have bought this suit ready-made.
She almost laughed at his studied attempt to avoid drawing attention to himself. Maybe he thought such was necessary in his line of work. He might as well wear glitter-paste stones and purple satin for all the good it did him. Sean Wilder couldn’t go unremarked in a crowd of thousands.
His size and good looks only accounted for a portion of that remarkability, however. Something within the man exuded absolute self-reliance, maybe even danger. Attractive trait, that. Adding intelligence, a sinfully handsome face, and compassion to his list of attributes, Laura knew she had selected the nearly perfect man.
There was his reputation, of course. There were truly wicked rumors about his sordid past, as well as his present endeavors. But those only added to his appeal as far as she was concerned.
When Laura saw him straighten and begin thumbing through the papers he had drawn out of his files, she took a deep breath and rapped on the door frame with the head of his cane. Time was wasting.
“Just leave the coffee on the desk,” Sean muttered. “There’s tuppence for you on the blotter there.” He flicked through the folders in the oak drawer and cursed when he found the one he wanted, misfiled. He pulled it out and riffled through it.
Good thing he had kept his own personal notes while he worked for the Yard. He needed access to the official records, but these jottings he had saved were better than nothing for the moment. Whoever had sent him the threatening letter this week must be one of the miscreants he had given evidence against at one time or another. There were certainly enough candidates for a lengthy list.
He favored George Luckhurst, a well-educated fellow he had nabbed for a murder down near Buck’s Row. The note’s penmanship indicated it had not been written by one of the usual inhabitants of his former beat. The folder in one hand, he reached atop the filing drawers and scanned the open missive again.
You bastard, I will destroy you.
Luckhurst had escaped later during a transfer from Fleet to another facility. Could be him, Sean mused as he laid the note aside. He would ask Inspector MacLinden about the fellow.
“Mr. Wilder?” a soft, musical voice enquired.
Sean turned swiftly. Papers from the folder in his left hand slid to the floor and scattered. He hardly noticed. The vision in lavender georgette smiled and inclined her head. “My apologies for interrupting your afternoon, sir, but I’ve come on a matter of business. Also to return your cane.” She glided forward and gently laid the object across his desk.
Recognition brought with it a fierce ripple of pleasure. He could hardly credit the change in her, but there was no mistaking who she was. Those huge, gray, dark-lashed eyes. That tender, expressive mouth, today unhampered by its former tremble. “Well now, if it isn’t Miss Middlebrook.”
“You remember me!” she exclaimed, dimpling. “I should have expected you would, given my behavior when you visited. I do apologize. You must have thought me the worst sort of ninny.”
“Not at all,” he replied to the flirtation. Then more to the point, he added, “Where is your brother?” Sean, more than most, understood the dangers of a woman going about without protection. “Surely you haven’t come here alone?”
She nodded slightly and sent the long, delicate feather in her hat swaying. “I’m afraid I have. Not at all the thing, is it? But my business has nothing to do with Lambdin, or my father’s dealings with you, for that matter. May I sit?”
“Yes, of course.” Sean pulled one of the captain’s chairs around to a more convenient position and held it for her to be seated. Then he took the other facing her and leaned forward. A subtle hint of jasmine surrounded her like an aura and drew him closer to the source. Warnings of danger clanged like bells on a fire wagon inside his head. He ignored the sound and smiled.
What an amazing metamorphosis. Gone were the out-of-date clothes and haphazard hairstyle. The gorgeous gray eyes looked clear and direct, so unlike the teary, heart-clutching sight they had appeared when he first saw her. That sunny smile of hers, which he hadn’t been subjected to until now, could melt stone. Sean felt entranced in spite of himself. His better judgment didn’t seem to count for a damned thing.
He deliberately shook off the abhorrent thought. Entranced, indeed. The girl had come to discuss business, not to be ogled. Sean straightened in his chair and forced himself to relax. “So then, what may I do for you, Miss Middlebrook?”
She wound her hands together around the silken cords of her reticule, betraying a subtle attack of nerves. “I have come to make you a proposition, Mr. Wilder.” Her gaze settled directly into his, stealing the breath he had been about to take. “As you may or may not know, I am moderately wealthy in my own right. I have an inheritance from my maternal grandmother, a lump sum amount and a healthy trust, plus stock in several companies. I reached my majority six months ago and control it, independent of my stepfather or brother.”
“How fortunate for you,” Sean said, amazed that her family let her wander out of the house alone. The woman needed a constant keeper if she bandied about facts such as this. “There is a point to your offering me this financial information, I presume?”
“Indeed,” she said. “Every farthing I own will be yours unconditionally if you agree to take on the task I’m about to propose.” Her perfect brows drew together. “And, sir, I do pray you will.”
How serious she looked about it. Sean smiled and nodded to himself. She probably wanted him to investigate someone who had offered for her. Wanted to see whether the rascal had a mistress tucked away or if he might be prone to reckless gambling. Simple matters, easily unearthed. One should also discover beforehand any dangerous or peculiar sexual habits, as well, for her safety’s sake, but she would never think to ask for that.
At any rate, Sean admitted she showed a modicum