“Ridiculous. A frown is as good a deterrent as any and I certainly don’t need a cane.”
“Scowling works for you, not me. I like to be more hands-on with my conversations.” His big hands rose and cupped her breasts.
To her mortification, Rebecca’s nipples hardened under his palms. She had missed his touch these past few days but now was not the time for lovemaking. “Adam, not now.”
“But why? You were just starting to enjoy it,” he kissed her cheek but lowered his hands obediently. “When?”
She’d sent him home last night unsatisfied to be with his daughter. But tonight might be another matter. She had needs too, and he was very good at paying attention to those. “That depends?”
The shop door bell tinkled, and they both peered through the crack in the door. A woman entered the establishment, but she had blonde hair and walked unevenly. It wasn’t her.
Rebecca leaned back against Adam and sighed. “She’s not coming.”
“Patience, Becca” he urged. “People will do almost anything for money when they care only for themselves,” Rafferty warned just as the bell tinkled again and the blonde woman left.
When the bell rang again, Rebecca put her eye to the gap and saw a pretty India muslin on a woman entering the shop. When Rebecca saw the woman’s face, her breath caught because she knew her very well indeed. She had hoped to be wrong about this.
Rafferty’s grip tightened on her waist. “Wait. Is that who I think it is?”
“Indeed it is,” Rebecca agreed quietly. Charlotte Benning. A woman Rebecca had considered a good friend until recent times. Charlotte had met Barclay a year ago today in his offices.
“Don’t let her see you yet,” Adam warned drawing Rebecca back a little more from the gap in the door.
But she saw Charlotte approach the shopkeeper, smiling warmly. “Has my order come in?”
The bell chimed again and a gentleman of means entered the shop.
“That’s Sir John,” Adam whispered. “I’ll introduce him to you later.”
“Your order? Oh, forgive me,” Mr. Garrick begged. “My memory is atrocious today. Could you remind me what your name is again?”
The woman beamed. “It is Mrs. Rebecca Warner of Upper Brook Street.”
The magistrate, in the act of inspecting walking canes, clearly heard the woman because he turned to look at Charlotte frowning.
“Ah, yes. The snuffbox,” Garrick said aloud. “I have it right here. Just a moment.”
Rebecca was so devastated she turned away. She’d know Charlotte had no qualms in asking for trinkets when they were shopping. She’d never imagined she’d try to impersonate her.
“Oh, it is just what I hoped for,” Charlotte exclaimed as she examined the tiny box. “Do send the bill to my solicitor for settlement as usual.”
Rebecca was distraught. Charlotte clearly knew what she was doing.
“Not yet,” Adam whispered holding her back as the door chimes rang out again.
Rebecca froze. It was her solicitor, Mr. Barclay.
Barclay strode straight to Charlotte’s side. “My dear, what are you doing in this shop again,” he demanded. “The carriage is waiting to take us home.”
Charlotte turned, smiling. “Oh no, you’ll spoil my surprise, my love.”
“My love?” Adam asked quietly. “Are they in this together?”
Rebecca squinted at the pair and couldn’t miss the look of love on their faces. “It seems so.”
Charlotte darted back to the counter and collected her ill-gotten gains as other customers entered the shop. She took her present to Barclay, the snuffbox sitting proudly on the palm of her hand. “For you. To celebrate the anniversary of meeting each other.”
Barclay’s eyes twinkled. “You shouldn’t have spent your pin money on me.”