Sins of a Virgin Read Free Page B

more flowers for us girls tomorrow, miss?”
    “Undoubtedly.” Did the men of London think she wanted to drown in them? “Oh, and there’s a forbidding man standing at my front door. Can you leave without him seeing you?”
    The child’s head bobbed. “I’m good at that.”
    Madeline shut the door, aware of her butler hovering behind her. “Orchids make me sneeze,” she explained.
    “And the roses, and the daffodils, and the peonies? I must say your sneezing was becoming bothersome.”
    “Terrible curse.” Madeline crossed her arms and silently dared him to contradict her.
    “Indeed, miss.”
    Madeline eyed her butler, her eyes rising to the top of his head. “The feather does look better on you.”
    Canterbury patted the ostrich feather on his hat. “Indeed, miss.” The jaunty trimming she’d given him fluttered over his high-crowned beaver, a new addition in his seemingly endless supply of unusual creations. “Thank you.”
    She still wasn’t sure how her butler knew Wraith. Neither of them would speak about it. All she knew was that Wraith had hired him for her because he was trustworthy. And Wraith didn’t think anyone was trustworthy. “Well, as you said, it never suited my lavender bonnet.”
    Canterbury glanced toward the doorway. “Shall I answer the door now, miss?”
    Madeline walked in the opposite direction. “Give him another minute, then put him in the study.”
    “Shall I tell him you will attend him shortly?”
    “No. Our appointment isn’t for another half an hour.” She had no problem making the Runner wait until then. She was hiring him, not the other way around. If he was going to prove impossible to work with, she needed to know immediately.
    “Very good, miss.”
    Madeline hurried up the stairs to the parlor. The room provided a clear view of the front door where Huntford waited.
    As before, a tingle slid down her spine. It was a primal response, one she’d experienced only when her life was in danger. She shouldn’t be in danger now, yet her senses sharpened. The clatter of each horse hoof. The glint of the sun on the puddle behind him. She became aware of the weight of the knife sheathed at her calf.
    Even though Huntford’s second knock had gone unanswered for several minutes, he still waited on her doorstep. He didn’t fidget. He hadn’t turned away in frustration. He simply waited. Still and silent like a wolf.
    An arrogant wolf.
    Below, the door opened. Huntford must have been surprised by her butler’s hat—she often had to fight the urge to blink owlishly at him herself—but the Runner’s posture didn’t change. He simply removed his own hat and stepped inside.
    Madeline moved to the door that joined the parlor to the study. Cracking the door open, she waited as the footsteps sounded on the stairs.
    A moment later, Canterbury ushered Huntford inside. “Miss Valdan will see you when she is available.”
    Huntford nodded once. When the door closed silently behind Canterbury, Huntford remained in place while his eyes searched the room. She didn’t doubt he saw everything from the ink stain on the desk to the threadbare patch on the rug, and he never once allowed his back to be to the door.
    Perhaps he might be of some use after all.
    She also liked the way he stood, weight centered, arms loose. There were scabs on his knuckles, too—at most, a week old. The calluses on his hands were far older.
    His clothing gave her pause, however. Ian had said he’d earned a fair amount of money from his private investigations, but she wouldn’t have picked him as a man to spend much of it on clothing. But there was no doubt that his clothing wasn’t some ready-made attire. It had been tailored specifically for him, skimming his broad shoulders and trim waist. The cravat at his neck was tied simply, but with crisp, clean lines. His boots, while not new, were polished to a shine.
    Who was he trying to prove himself to?
    Not her. He’d been dressed just as precisely at