He rubbed the back of his neck, wary. “What, exactly, is going to happen here between the hours of seven and eleven?”

Sophie purposely ignored the question. “That brings me to rule number one.”

“We have rules?”

“You will make no inquiries about my use of the building and will stay far away during the aforementioned hours.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, arching a brow. “But this is a respectable tailor’s shop. I hope you don’t plan to turn it into an opium den.”

“If I do, it’s no concern of yours,” she said briskly.

Reese took a swallow of brandy and shot her a knee-melting half smile. “I’m intrigued, Miss Kendall.”

“Rule number two,” she continued. “Absolutely no one may know about this arrangement,” she said soberly.

Reese rubbed the stubble on his chin. “My staff?”

Sophie’s neck prickled ominously. “Why would they need to know?”

“Because they’re bound to see you at Warshire Manor,” he said, as if it should have been painfully obvious.

“But I assumed we’d be meeting here in the shop,” she said, even as she realized he had other ideas.

He shrugged. “In case you hadn’t noticed,” he said dryly, “there’s no bed here.”

She stood and paced in front of her chair. “You slept in the chair last Friday evening. Why can’t you do it again?”

“Because I need you to stay with me, and you wouldn’t be comfortable here.”

She blinked. “Reese, I am not going to share a bed with you.”

He arched a brow, amused. “I wasn’t suggesting that.”

“Good.” She spun on her heel to hide her mortification. The earl had already said he wasn’t trying to seduce her, and yet she’d rather recklessly injected the possibility into the conversation again. She’d assumed he had ulterior motives for wanting her to spend the night—but it seemed her worry was for naught. “However, I’m afraid that spending the night at Warshire Manor is out of the question.”

“But you were prepared to spend the night here. How is staying at my house any different? It’s only a short coach ride away—and far more comfortable. I’ve already had a guest bedchamber prepared for you.”

Needing some distance, Sophie walked to the far wall and plucked a half-crushed derby off the shelf. She spun the hat in her hands, stalling for time. What Reese said was logical. How could she explain that going to his house felt far too personal? There she would run the risk of learning more about who he truly was. And then she might begin to care about him—as more than a grumpy, sleep-deprived earl.

Setting the hat back on the shelf, she faced him and said, “You shouldn’t have presumed I would be willing to go home with you. I’d prefer to stay here, in territory that’s more neutral.”