A study in scandal by Robyn DeHart Page B

men who wanted to have their way with unsuspecting females.
    Precisely what Colin could do to prevent such athing, he wasn’t so certain, as he wasn’t much of a defender. Not in the physical sense. He was used to battling people with his intellect. But he was a large man and perhaps his mere presence would deter such behavior from occurring.
    A bell rang as they entered the dim store.
    “I’ll be right with you,” someone yelled from the back.
    Colin had been here once before, but today he viewed the surroundings with fresh eyes. Eyes that knew Amelia had been here before as well, only without him. Without protection of any sort. Colin’s blood chilled.
    The cloudy sky blocked what little sunlight might be able to penetrate the grime-covered windows. Two lamps provided the only light, so visibility was hindered.
    Jars, vases, and urns lined the shelf to their right, and books shelved in no discernible order collected dust on their left. On the back wall a collection of less-than-tasteful pictures hung. Scantily clad women in provocative poses meant for a man’s eye. They weren’t exceedingly gratuitous, but were certainly not the sort that a lady should see.
    “All right, then, what can I do…Oh, you again,” Mr. Flinders said as he rounded the corner and caught sight of Colin.
    Amelia stepped forward. “He’s with me. I received your note. We’d like to discuss this new information with you.”
    She was restraining her excitement. Colin could tell by the way she clenched her hands and the controlled tone in her voice.
    “Why’d you bring him? Figure you’d be needing protection?” Flinders asked.
    “No,” Colin said. “Miss Watersfield is assisting me with this case.”
    “Well, I called for the girl and only the girl,” Flinders protested.
    “And I certainly appreciate your assistance,” Amelia soothed. “Please know that you will be well compensated for your information.” She smiled sweetly.
    Flinders eyed Colin warily.
    “I can assure you, Mr. Flinders, that you can trust Inspector Brindley as you would myself. Please carry on,” she said.
    After a few grunts and annoyed looks, the man was finally ready to talk.
    He turned his body so that he was angled directly at Amelia. “I don’t have details, you’ll have to find those yourself. But there’s been talk lately about a new buyer in town.” Flinders looked about, then leaned in and whispered. “Funnything is, no one has ever seen him. So no one’s right sure if he’s even real. He’s a phantom, some say.”
    “Do you know his name?” Amelia asked.
    Flinders shook his head. “No. No one does, that I’ve heard. If he be wanting to buy in this town, though, he’ll need a name. And plenty of coin.”
    Colin found it increasingly difficult to pay attention to the old man’s nonsense. The tantalizing scent of strawberries pulled his thoughts to the bit of fluff beside him rather than to recording any pertinent information. Not that there was any information, pertinent or not, to record. A nameless, faceless buyer was not information. It was a waste of time.
    Amelia finished her discussion with Mr. Flinders. “Are you ready?” she asked Colin.
    He cleared his throat in hopes of clearing his head, to no avail. He nodded.
    She smiled and waited a moment before stepping in front of him to lead the way out of the store. He was caught again by her genuine smile and the ease with which it slid into place. He followed her to the hackney, but said nothing.
    One more kiss .
    Surely that would satisfy his curiosity. Satisfy all the questions that had taken up so much space in his head since that first kiss.
    Chances were, kissing Amelia would not be as tantalizing as he remembered. She wouldn’t be as pliant, or as soft, or as willing. Her lips wouldn’t be as tender, her mouth as warm, nor her tongue as seductive. Kissing her again would prove all of these things to him and remind him that wasting time on a woman was simply that, and he