“I don’t suppose I gave it a great deal of thought, one way or another. It depends on the lengths you’ll go to in order to acquire what you want.”

“All the lengths that are necessary. Would you not do the same?”

“I’m not certain I would.”

“Then I assume you are fortunate, and life has offered you few challenges.”

“You would assume incorrectly.” As though embarrassed by his words, he dropped his gaze to his bowl and began stabbing the fluffy potatoes on top into the meat filling.

God. How was it that they’d become so short with each other? A change in subject was needed. “If I may be so bold, you don’t sound as though you come from the streets. I’d wager you’ve had some education.”

“My father insisted.”

“You strike me as being a solicitor. Or a banker, perhaps.” Someone with a position of authority and influence. It was simply the way he held himself, the confidence that rolled off him in waves.

“Nothing quite so interesting, I assure you.”

His tone indicated that line of conversation was at an end, but she wasn’t yet ready to let it go. “Now you’ve piqued my curiosity, Mr. Sommersby. How do you earn your way?”

He studied her for a long moment, as though torn between telling her to go to the devil or answering with honesty. Finally, he said, “I am a gentleman with means.”

Which told her nothing at all. Had an inheritance fallen into his hands? Had he achieved success at business, investment, with the horses, or gambling? “How do you spend your day?”

“Doing whatever I please.”

“Yet you claimed not to be fortunate.”

“Everything comes with a price, Miss Trewlove.”

What price had he paid? Not that it was any of her business, not that she was rude enough to inquire. She’d already skirted the edge of good manners. Yet, she couldn’t deny being curious about him. It was odd how he drew her interest when no other man had—not in this way at least.

She’d found numerous men attractive certainly but had never had her heart fluttering because of the beauty of one of them. She’d never wanted to delve into every aspect of one of their lives, didn’t know why she wanted to know all the details of his. Perhaps it was simply that she’d begun preparing herself for analyzing the men she would meet next week as potential husbands, and her mind had decided to practice her skills in order to hone them. Or perhaps he piqued her interest simply because he seemed so determined not to be known.

While they’d been conversing, they’d managed to finish off their meal. Becky hurried over. “Will there be anythin’ else, loves?”

“Nothing for me,” Fancy said.

“Nor for me,” he responded.

“Is ’e with ye, Miss Trewlove?”