His eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze becoming more intense, as though she’d suddenly grown a second head. “Why in God’s name would you go to a penny gaff?”

Again, she owed him no explanation but where was the harm in giving one? While Aiden owned a club catering to women’s fantasies, she was forbidden from going there and had to make do finding her own entertainments. With a sigh, she turned the lock before slipping the key into a hidden pocket at the waist of her skirt, very much aware that light fingers would be about where she was going, so anything of import that might be nicked was hidden away. “When I have my entrée into Society, I will be expected to behave with utmost decorum and places such as this will be forbidden to me.”

“They should be forbidden to you now.”

She rolled her eyes at his admonishment. What should it matter to him how she spent her evening? “They have been, which is why I’m going tonight. It might be my last chance to actually experience one.”

“Alone? Without a chaperone? Have you gone mad?”

“It is not the sort of place where one takes a chaperone. Besides, she might tell Mick, and he’d be none too pleased.”

“As well he shouldn’t be. I forbid it.”

She barked out a laugh. “You are not in a position to forbid me to do anything, Mr. Sommersby. Good evening, sir.”

With a slight turning of her shoulders, she edged past him and strolled up the walk. His footsteps, loud and with purpose, echoed around her.

“How are you going to get there?”

“I’m hiring a hansom a few streets over.” When she was well beyond Mick’s keen eyesight.

“You can’t go alone. There are dangers, Miss Trewlove.”

“I’m prepared for them.”

“Pickpockets, brigands, thugs. All manner of men with ill intentions who will not hesitate to take advantage of a woman alone.”

“I appreciate your concern, Mr.—”

He grabbed her arm. Fortunately, it wasn’t the one holding her reticule. She swung it with all her might. It thunked against his head and sent him staggering back, his hat flying into the street. Catching his balance, he pressed his hand to his head. “What the devil is in that thing?”

“Books.” Darting forward, she rescued his hat before it was crushed beneath the wheels of a passing carriage. Back on the pavement, she extended it toward him. “I’m so sorry. I reacted without thought, although I also suspect you were striving to demonstrate how a blackguard might attempt to take advantage.”

He failed to respond to her assessment but had an air of guilt about him. “Why would you take books to a penny gaff?”