Like many others, the girl couldn’t decide his social status she bobbed a curtsy just to play safe. I’d like a moment of her time, if she can spare it.” He was about to give his title, then realized Griselda-Miss Martin-would likely not appreciate her staff knowing she was being visited by the police. Returning his gaze to the girl’s round face, he stated, “I’m here to see Miss Martin. He felt comprehensively out of place, as if he’d stepped uninvited into a lady’s boudoir. Glancing around, he almost winced at the feathers, lace, ribbons, and fripperies draped over pegs and adorning hats of various shapes. He could understand her confusion he wasn’t the usual run of customer for a milliner’s establishment. Hesitantly she asked, “Can I help you, sir?” One-Stokes took her for the elder-laid aside the bonnet she was trimming and came forward to the small counter. They blinked, then exchanged quick glances. After a moment, he squared his shoulders, walked up the two steps, opened the door, and went inside.Ī bell above the door jangled two girls working at a bench at the rear of the narrow rectangular space looked up. John’s Wood High Street, staring at the door of a small shop. The next morning at nine o’clock, Inspector Basil Stokes stood on the pavement in St. And until she accomplished the former, she wasn’t-clearly wasn’t-going to be able to manage him as she wished. It was either take some action to nullify his effect, or continue to suffer her wayward wits and wretchedly preoccupied senses. Quite what she was going to do about him she didn’t know, but it was patently clear she would have to do something. Not least because he wouldn’t be dismissed. Normally, certainly after she’d conversed with a gentleman twice, she’d already dismissed him from her mind.īarnaby Adair she couldn’t dismiss. She could find no fault with Barnaby Adair-not in his investigative capabilities, nor yet, and most surprisingly, in his gentlemanly attributes. When she did…“Damn!” She muttered the word beneath her breath. Only then did she even bother to try to marshal her wits and assess the situation. Penelope watched his broad shoulders until he passed out of sight. As he walked from the drawing room, he felt a certain contentment from his evening’s entertainment-something he very definitely hadn’t expected, either. Taking her hand, he set it on his sleeve and turned her toward the drawing room. “You waltz very well-much better than I’d expected.” Smiling in return, she inclined her head. He looked down at her face as he swirled her to a halt-at those ruby lips slightly parted, at her lovely eyes and the madonnalike face that no amount of severe grooming would ever disguise-and wondered just how truthful he was being.
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