Page 4 of His Improper Lady

“I am going to find out and prove it to you,” Desiree retorted.

“Are you going to break in again?” Brock asked, his eyebrows winging up in alarm.

“No. I don’t like working for Falk any more than you do, and, as you said, I have no reason to believe that Falk would tell me the truth...or even know it.”

Wells snorted. “Falk wouldn’t know the truth if it walked up and spit in his eye.”

“Which is what I recommend you do if he approaches you again,” Brock told Desiree. “And on that note, children,” he said as he rose from his chair, “I am going to retire, though I’ll doubtless have nightmares about Desiree getting hauled off to jail.” He started toward the door, then turned back around. “Don’t do anything foolish, Dez. Promise me that.”

“I won’t.”

He looked at her doubtfully. “Somehow, I think that your idea of foolish differs from mine.”

With a nod, he left the room. Desiree watched Brock leave, then sighed and went over to her twin. Unceremoniously pushing his feet off the stool, she sat down on it and turned to him. “I’m afraid I hurt him. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” Wells nodded. “He feels guilty because he was gone for all those years, couldn’t keep us from Falk.”

“Brock was just thirteen, little more than a child himself. What else could he have done? And he came back for us, just as he said he would.”

“I know that. Even he knows that. But I think he feels that he must have failed or you wouldn’t want to find our father.”

“That isn’t it at all. It has nothing to do with Brock.”

“Well, that’s part of the problem for him, isn’t it? The man’s not Brock’s father, just ours.”

“I know.” Desiree sighed and leaned her shoulder against his chair. “More than that, he despises our father.”

“Well, we were only babies when our parents ran off, but Brock was six. He doesn’t remember much about the man, but he was old enough to understand that he abandoned us. It’s not the sort of thing that brings up tender feelings.”

“No,” Desiree said sadly. “He feels the same about our mother. He never calls her ‘Mum’ or ‘Mother.’ Just Stella, as if she were merely an acquaintance, not his mother.”

“Yes, he has a way of keeping his distance.”

They were silent for a moment, then Desiree asked, “Does it ever bother you that you don’t know who our father is? Do you never wonder who he was? What he was like?”

“I have some curiosity. I wouldn’t mind knowing. But I don’t think it matters as much to me as it does to you.” Wells shrugged. “I suppose I felt as if Bruna and Sid were our parents.” The couple who had raised them after they were abandoned had always cared for them well.

“I did, too, in a way, and of course Brock was always there. The one I could go to when I needed help. But still... I’ve always wondered, is there this whole other family out there that we belong to? What are they like? Do they look like us? Know about us? I used to daydream sometimes that they would find us. That it had all been a mistake, and our mother hadn’t really left us. That she had been searching for us for all those years. And she’d take us away, and our father would welcome us. We’d have cousins and aunts and uncles and...” She shrugged. “Stupid, I know.”

“Not stupid,” he told her. “I suspect all of us wished we had parents and families. That someone would whisk us away from Falk, and we’d have lots of food and a soft bed and clean clothes.” They sat in silence for a moment, then Wells asked quietly, “Why didn’t you tell me you were bargaining with Falk?”

Desiree shrugged. “I didn’t see any reason for you to have to deal with Falk again. And if we were caught, the people you work for wouldn’t like it. All I would have to face was Brock. Besides, it didn’t require two people. It was just a second-floor job, easy to get in and out.” She scowled. “Or at least it would have been if that man hadn’t come charging in.”

“What?” Wells stiffened. “You were caught?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “I knew I wasn’t in any real jeopardy.”

“Desiree...” Wells let out an exasperated sigh. “I know that you can see whether a wall is stable or what is the safest route to take, but people are different. Getting the feeling that someone is lying isn’t the same as seeing a danger.”

“But it is the same,” Desiree protested. “You understand my physical skills better than the mental ones, because they are more like yours, but the things I can do are all part of one ability, like different currents in the same ocean.” It was frustrating that as close as Wells was to her, as much as they had in common, Desiree had never been able to make him fully understand the way her talent worked. “I can see the integrity or corruption in people as clearly as I can see a crack in the wall or a drainpipe that won’t carry my weight. And I can sense danger even when I haven’t seen it yet. You know that better than anyone.”

“I do,” Wells agreed. “God knows, you’ve saved my life many a time. But I am also aware that these peculiar skills we possess have limits. You have to focus your ability to read a situation just as I do, and you can’t operate with your inner eye open all the time. You miss things—I know because I miss things. That’s why we worked better together. You should have taken me with you.”

“You wouldn’t have been able to avoid him any better than I did. He grabbed me from behind. I couldn’t see his face. I think he’s probably a watchman. He must sleep there—his shirt was unbuttoned.” She remembered the feel of her fingers on his bare chest—and the way his hand slid over her body, accidentally touching her breast. She’d been as startled as he was. Her fingertips tingled again just at the memory. “I’m rusty, though. I assumed there was no one there, and I was impatient. I rushed in instead of taking the time to read the place. And when he grabbed me, it took me longer to get out than it should have.”

“Good thing we’re not making a living off it anymore, then.”

“Yes.” Desiree was silent for a moment, thinking. “Do you ever miss it?”