And vaguely worrisome.
“Perhaps I should try harder to provoke,” he murmured without thought.
For a moment her eyelashes lifted, and her gaze met his directly, her eyes wide and intrigued, the very frankness of her look, whether consciously or unconsciously, a feminine lure to a man.
He caught his breath.
Then her gaze dropped to her lap again. “What are you doing in St. Giles, my lord?”
“Riding in your carriage.” He stretched his legs in the narrow space between the seats. “This is your carriage, isn’t it?”
Her lips thinned. “Of course.”
“Oh, good,” he said easily. “I’d hate to have to take Thomas to task because he’d loaned you his carriage to gallivant about the sewers of St. Giles. Unless”—he widened his eyes in pretend sudden thought—“Wakefield gave you permission to come here?”
She tilted her chin haughtily. “I’m not a child, Lord Griffin. I hardly need permission from my brother to travel where and when I choose.”
“Then Wakefield won’t be surprised when I inform him where I met you,” he replied silkily.
Her gaze darted away, confirming his suspicions.
His voice deepened to something approaching a growl. “I thought not.”
Anger rose in him, swift and hot. He was caught off guard by the intensity of the primitive emotion. What did it matter to him if Thomas’s primly perfect fiancée put herself in danger by haring about St. Giles? Common sense said it was hardly his business.
Unfortunately, common sense held no sway with his emotions. Lady Hero in this place was so terribly wrong that he had to restrain himself from grabbing her and bearing her bodily away, ranting all the while about headstrong chits, recklessly oblivious brothers, and the myriad of ghastly fates that could overtake a gently bred lady in London’s slums.
Griffin took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. God, he needed sleep. “St. Giles is not known for its hospitality, my lady,” he said as gently as possible. “Whatever brought you here cannot possibly be as—”
“Please don’t patronize me.”
“Very well.” He felt his jaw tighten. Damnation, but he wasn’t used to being dismissed so cavalierly by anyone, let alone a woman. “Tell me why you are here.”
She bit her lip and looked away.
He smiled tightly. “It’s me or Wakefield. Take your pick.”
“Since you insist.” She smoothed her skirt with her palms. “I’m going to inspect the building site of a home for foundling children.”
Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. “Why?”
She made a quick impatient grimace, so fast he almost missed it. “Because I’m one of the patronesses of the home.”
His eyebrows winged up. “Quite commendable. Why keep it a secret from your brother?”
“It’s not a secret.” She caught his skeptical look and amended, “The part about me being a patroness isn’t a secret anyway. Maximus is well aware that I’ve pledged to help the home. The problem is its location. He doesn’t want me visiting St. Giles.”
“I applaud his intelligence,” Griffin said drily. “Then why sneak out?”
“Because I’m the patroness!” Lady Hero frowned at him like an offended queen, the look only slightly dampened by the freckles scattered across her nose. “It’s my duty to make sure the new home is built properly.”
“All by yourself?”
“There is another patroness—Lady Caire. But she is out of the country at the moment.” She bit her lip. “I would go to Lord Caire, her son, or his bride, the younger Lady Caire—she is the sister to the manageress of the home and used to run it herself—but they have recently married and have retired to Lord Caire’s country estate for the next several months.”
He stared at her incredulously. “So you’re overseeing the building of the home all by yourself at the moment?”
“Yes.” Her chin tilted proudly, but her pretty mouth trembled.
He raised his eyebrow at her and waited.
“It’s not going very well,” she said after a second’s hesitation. Her voice was a breathless rush, her hands twisted in her lap. “Actually, it’s going terribly. The architect we hired appears to be untrustworthy. That’s why I’m going to visit the site today—to see what he’s accomplished in the last week.”
“Or what he hasn’t accomplished?” How odd that her small show of trust should make his chest expand with warmth.
She inclined her head. “That, too.”
Griffin shook his head. “You must tell Wakefield about your problem. He or his agent can deal with this for you.”