“The men who live and work around the docks are often away at sea. Equally, those who frequent The Mariners Tavern are keen to avoid all dealings with the law and spend their lives dodging the hangman’s noose. The fact that I could not locate the men concerned does not seem odd to me.”
His logical reply failed to appease her. She’d learnt that one should never ignore the hollow feeling in their gut.
“And I suppose it’s normal for a gentleman of good breeding to drink with sailors in a ramshackle tavern?” she said.
“Surely, with the experience you’ve gained during your work these last three years, you understand a man’s need for privacy.” His condescending tone prickled the hairs on her nape. “A tavern in that part of town offers a degree of anonymity. You’ll find no nosey matrons scrambling about for juicy morsels of gossip. A man of good breeding often seeks entertainment in quieter pastures.”
She was not a fool and knew men went to taverns to quench more than their thirst. “Is that a polite way of telling me that Thomas sought more than a mug of ale and a meat pie?”
“I have no notion why Thomas was there.”
“Most men look for excitement outside the marriage bed.” She didn’t want Thorpe to think her naive.
Thorpe stared down his nose, his gaze hard, dangerously dark. “Not all men. Some prefer to dedicate their life to one woman. Some understand the true value of a woman’s love.”
The surrounding air was suddenly charged with a magnetic energy that awakened her attraction to him. What would it feel like to be loved by Daniel Thorpe? She suspected he hid an intense passion beneath his austere facade. The thought caused her heart to skip a beat, brought beads of perspiration to her brow.
“Then my faith in men is restored,” she said, knowing that Thorpe would protect his lady love until he drew his last breath. “Perhaps love does exist. Perhaps there’s hope for us all.”
Mr Thorpe shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. “We seem to have strayed from the topic. You were telling me why a ghost is the least of your fears.”
“Oh, yes. Then I shall come straight to the point.” For three years she had kept her fears a secret. In her mind, she repeated the sentence that was about to change everything. “Someone is following me, Mr Thorpe. When I’m walking along the street, trying on gloves at Masons, eating an ice at Gunters, I am aware of him watching me. It doesn’t matter how many times I move to new lodgings, he always finds me.”
Thorpe sat bolt upright. “Why the blazes didn’t you say so before? Do you know him? Do you know why the hell he’s following you around town?”
Daphne squirmed. “No. I have no idea who he is.” This was going to be the hardest part. He would think her fit for Bedlam. “I have no idea who he is because I have never seen him.”
Thorpe jerked his head back. Two deep furrows appeared between his brows.
“Please do not offer words of wisdom or question my judgement,” she said before he could open his mouth. “The man enters my house, takes nothing, leaves no trace but for his unique scent in the air. I’ve spent years scouring the recesses of my mind in search of another explanation. Years trying to understand if it has anything to do with Thomas.”
“Years? How long have you had these suspicions?”
“Three years.”
“Since Thomas’ death?” Thorpe appeared shocked.
“A few weeks after, yes.” Due to the dulling effects of grief, it was impossible for her to recall when she’d felt that first prickle of awareness.
Thorpe bowed his head.
With a heavy tension in the air pressing down on her shoulders, Daphne watched the rivulets of rain trickle down the window pane. Mr Thorpe was often silent when he was thinking. He was often silent when attempting to control his temper.
When he looked up, the despair in his eyes stabbed at her heart. “You should have come to me sooner. I would have found this rogue and put an end to the matter.”
He believed her!
They had never shared the sort of trusting friendship that allowed a person to declare their innermost feelings. “Forgive me for being blunt but, prior to Lord Harwood’s case, your constant need to remind me of my failings only served to place distance between us.”
He gritted his teeth and shook his head. “For heaven’s sake, Daphne, I was worried. What did you expect me to do, say nothing about your work? Did you imagine I could simply stand back and watch knowing your life was in jeopardy every time you walked out of the door?”
“There is little point discussing our past mistakes,” she said. “Perhaps I should not have been so stubborn. Perhaps you should have tried a different approach to deter me from my course.”
Thorpe threw himself back in the seat and gave an exasperated sigh. “I tried a different approach if you remember.”
He was talking about the marriage proposal. Now was not the time to debate the difference between duty and love.
“Then let us agree to be honest in future. I shall tell you when you’re charging about like a bull in a pig pen, and you can tell me when your glare of disapproval stems from fear for my safety.” Daphne chuckled to herself as she imagined Thorpe’s pained expression upon declaring his true feelings.