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you, but the loss isn’t so fresh now.”
    She had the sense of a door being shut. The disappointment seemed crushing.

    Alex veiled his eyes from Emily’s soul-piercing gaze. Yet he still felt her under his skin. Only once before had anyone invaded his feelings, his inner being like that, and it hadn’t been pleasant. He shifted in his seat and folded his arms over his chest.
    What the hell had happened? How had he lost all control over the situation? He had ended up dumping out some of his history in a truly weak and embarrassingly emotional rush. To a tavern harlot—and a pitiful example of a tavern harlot, at that.
    Damn it all, anyway. What was he doing still sitting here? He’d already ascertained that Green hadn’t hurt her too badly. And he’d satisfied his gentlemanly worry that she was some innocent kitten lost in the night.
    Once again, he eyed his companion critically. Yes, she was far too thin and her face was all sharp angles. Like a little fox. Her complexion was sallow. And she was painfully young. Not to mention that ridiculously overstuffed and obviously false bosom.
    Had she even looked in the mirror before deciding to go out like that? It wasn’t very promising. Elegant women who knew how to conduct themselves were what he enjoyed. He hadn’t intended to take this girl upstairs. And he’d certainly known that she was older than sixteen the moment he’d seen her walk. Her hips swayed like a woman’s.
    An exceptionally sensual, sexually experienced woman.
      But something about her prickly manner had driven him to try to provoke her. The way her eyes sparked at him had warmed his blood.
    He gave himself an inward shake. There were other, truly beautiful, far more compliant Philadelphian women he might be with. Brigit, for one. He still hadn’t seen her since he’d come home, and her aggrieved note lay folded in his pocket. So what was he doing here with this girl, whom he would never in a hundred years take to his bed? Damned if he knew.
    Maybe it was her air of innocence, yet knowing, the way her lithe body moved so sensually.
    And she did have compelling eyes—large, lushly lashed and the colour of firelight through sherry. She had kept staring at him, staring into his soul. She possessed a brilliance about her. As if she held some special knowledge about how to live. Some wisdom that he had lost—or perhaps had never even possessed. But it fascinated him. Honestly, her inner fire warmed him. Had made him reluctant to leave her.
    What nonsense. She was just a little tavern strumpet. And he’d wasted enough time—
    Her sharp, hitching inhalation broke into his thoughts. She sneezed three times in a row. Her full bottom lip quivered in the aftermath. That mouth—his heartbeat quickened and all his blood went rushing south to swell his cock.
    God, she had a lovely mouth.
    He offered her his handkerchief, but she had her own. She blew her nose as delicately as any elegant lady.
    “Are you hungry?” As soon as the words left his lips, he started. Had he really just asked her to supper? Yes, he feared he had. But Christ, she was so thin that her cheeks were hollow.
    She could certainly use a decent meal. It was the humane thing to do.
    “Hungry?” she asked, raising those huge, lushly lashed eyes to his.
    “Yes. Perhaps you’d like a late supper?”
    She glanced about and wrinkled her nose. “No, thank you.”
    So, despite being a harlot in a Hell City tavern, she had discriminating tastes and high standards. He definitely approved. He chuckled softly. “Not here. Someplace where they serve palatable food.”
     
      * * * *

    From the shadows, Richard Green watched Alexander Dalton help the thin, dark-haired girl into his carriage.
    “I knew they were working together.”
    Then he took a deep swig of whisky from the bottle he held.
    “Dalton works so hard to find new ways to make me lose face.”
    As the last drops fell into his mouth, he frowned then threw the bottle to the