Cloche and Dagger Read Online Free Page B

heart, you know.”
    He said it so sincerely that I felt my breath catch. He had to be teasing me.
    “No, I don’t believe you,” I said. I tossed my long auburn hair over my shoulder and resumed walking.
    Now here’s a little trick I’ve learned while watching my mom manage my dad my entire life. Quite simply, she has taught me that you will often get what you want much faster if you flirt. Yes, I know you could argue that it throws back the women’s movement a century or two, but I prefer to think of it as a management skill, where the person on the receiving end of my attention enjoys being made to feel good, and I get what I want.
    In this case because I knew very well that ten-year-old me had blown off Harry Wentworth in favor of chasing some stupid soccer player whose name I couldn’t even remember, I was angling for forgiveness.
    “How can you not believe me?” he asked. He fell into stride beside me. “I was a crushing twelve-year-old, who showed up at your grandmother’s door ready to take you out for ice cream, only to discover that you’d gone off with your cousin to chase someone else.”
    I felt a spasm of guilt at how badly I’d treated him. Had I really been such a thoughtless girl? It appeared so. Given the recent events in my life, I had to conclude that the public humiliation I had just suffered was just what I deserved in the cosmic sense of karmic payback, and apparently, my transgression had accrued some serious interest.
    “No, that’s just not possible,” I said.
    He looked exasperated enough to throttle me, so I stopped walking and gave him a small smile.
    “I would never have stood up a boy as handsome and charming as you,” I said. “I’m quite sure of it.”
    His ruddy cheeks flushed a deeper color at the flattery and he no longer looked like he wanted to choke me. Instead, just as I’d hoped, he looked charmed and disarmed.
    I rested my hand on his chest and leaned in close. “Whoever that horrid girl was who stood you up, well, you can be sure she regrets it now.”
    His mouth quirked up in the corner and this time he gave in and grinned. Then he leaned in close to me and said, “You’re incorrigible as always.”
    “See?” I asked. “Nothing changes.”
    • • •
    We settled into a snug, wooden booth with high walls, at the Earl of Lonsdale, and I immediately ordered a pint of Sam Smith’s Nut Brown Ale and the cottage pie. There are certain things you just can’t replicate in Florida, like real pub grub, and cottage pie was one of my favorites.
    We were served quickly, and Harrison watched me as I ate with the gusto of a woman who enjoys her food. I really do. When I had demolished half of my plate and could slow down enough to actually taste my food, I glanced up to find him studying me.
    “What?” I asked.
    He just shook his head. I had a feeling that, although I’d been forgiven, mostly, for standing him up in our youth, he still hadn’t made up his mind about me. I decided not to take it personally.
    “So, when do you suppose Viv will be back?”
    “No idea,” he said.
    “A day?” I persisted. “Two?”
    “Scarlett.” He said my name as if talking to someone who was slow, and I realized I preferred that he call me Ginger. I liked the way it sounded when he said it in his charming accent, but given our history, I really couldn’t go requesting that, now could I?
    “Yes, Harry,” I said. Naturally, I used his old nickname to goad him, just a little bit.
    “It’s Harrison.”
    I had a feeling he’d be saying that a lot to me, but I nodded politely as if I got it.
    “Viv is like, well, you,” he said. He paused to take a sip of his Taddy Porter. “So, there’s really no way to know when she’ll return.”
    “What does that mean exactly?” I asked. “That she’s like me?”
    “Well, you and your grandmother and Viv all share one particular trait,” he said. “My uncle and I have discussed it.”
    “You have, have you?” I wasn’t