Rumors that perhaps he had an interest in her. Based on the way Mrs. Flowers was watching them, he doubted a penny purchase was going to make any difference. She was going to tattle one way or the other. As he’d long been fodder for gossip, he wasn’t bothered by the notion of a bit more, especially when it would be harmless nattering. “It’s a small way to thank you for welcoming me into the area. Besides, when you have your coming out, you’re going to discover nothing prevents the spread of sensationalized tales. You might as well embrace it.”

After he paid for the purchases, he handed her the sack and followed her out onto the pavement. She immediately popped a toffee into her mouth. He watched the twisting of her lips as she stroked her tongue over the hard candy. He didn’t know if anything had ever been more sensual than the movements he couldn’t see, could only imagine as he envisioned her sucking, stroking, working her tongue over another hard surface. Christ, he needed to regain control of his errant thoughts.

She stood there as though reluctant to leave him as much as he was to bid her farewell. “Have you plans for your last evening before your Season officially begins?”

A bit of wickedness sparked in her eyes. “I hear the Fire King will be performing in Whitechapel. I intend to go see him. I’m rather certain there will be room in the hansom if you’ve a mind to spend your night enjoying street entertainments.”

“Did you grow up in Whitechapel?” he asked her several hours later as they strolled along the crowded street where people jostled each other to get a view of the tumblers or the jugglers or the men walking about on stilts.

“No, but near here.”

Matthew had been to fetes, fairs, carnivals, even a circus. What he was observing now reminded him of a carnival, but it was in the city, in the streets, rather than in the country, on a lawn with lots of space around it. He suspected a good many of these people hadn’t the means to take the railway out into the country, and so the performers had brought their talents here and created a festival with a joyous atmosphere.

But in spite of all the frivolity and the attention-seekers, his gaze kept drifting over to Miss Trewlove, her enthusiasm and excitement intoxicating. She appreciated her surroundings in a way few did. She understood the need for the poor to escape into fantasy, the need for the performers to be valued. She took in everything with the same intensity that he imagined she took in the pages of a novel, wondrously transported into another realm. She didn’t judge, found no fault. She merely immersed herself in the ambiance.