His charcoal gray waistcoat complemented his coat, and a discreet watch
chain led to a narrow pocket—nothing flashy or showy for Mr. McAdam. His
hair had been brushed back from his forehead and tamed flat, which was one
reason I hadn’t recognized him at once. Daniel’s unruly dark hair was usually
a tangle rumpled by wind and work.
He appeared to be, in sum, a highly respectable gentleman of the City. He
even had the haughty stance of a man who dealt with other people’s money
all day long while making a hefty profit for himself at the same time.
Though I fumbled with the cup and saucer and my face must have been
brilliant red, Daniel made no indication, neither with expression nor twitch of
his face, that he knew me at all. He remained motionless, unflappable, simply
watching while one of Lord Rankin’s staff got above herself.
I knew, however, that Daniel hadn’t needed to turn from the window. He could
have kept himself hidden from me, and I’d never have been the wiser. But his
eyes bore a deep sparkle of rage—not at me, but at Lord Rankin. He’d turned
around because Lord Rankin had pushed me.
I longed to give Daniel a nod to let him know I was all right—the likes of Lord
Rankin did not frighten me—but I didn’t dare. Whatever game Daniel was
playing, he’d not thank me for blundering in and spoiling it.
I managed to carry the cup and its saucer to the table, deposit it, curtsy, and
wait to be dismissed.
Lord Rankin waved his hand. “Go. I am not to be disturbed the remainder of
the night. Tell Davis.”
I curtsied again, suddenly the most respectful servant alive. “Yes, my lord.”
I swung around, resisting the urge to glance at Daniel again, and scuttled out
of the room. I made it onto the landing and hung on to the bannisters to catch
my breath.
But my ordeal was not over. Lord Rankin came out behind me and seized me
by the elbow. I cut off my yelp of surprise, not wanting Lady Rankin or Lady
Cynthia to hear and rush out to discover Lord Rankin in a half embrace with
me.