Chapter 10 #3
“Wait.” Rosalind leaned forward ever so slightly. “Now she'll insist it is terribly unfashionable.”
“She'll protest the compliment.”
“She must.”
Right on cue, the young lady blushed, shook her head modestly, and appeared to dismiss the praise entirely.
William stared for a moment before looking back at Rosalind. “I stand corrected.”
She bit back a laugh. “Now watch the couple by the window.”
William obediently shifted his attention.
An older gentleman sat listening with every appearance of perfect concentration while his wife spoke animatedly beside him.
Rosalind sighed dramatically. “He has not heard a word she's said for the last minute.”
William studied the man. “No?”
“Not one.”
“Then why does he keep nodding?”
“Because in precisely three seconds he will realize she's stopped speaking.”
William grinned. “Three?”
“Three.”
Together they counted beneath their breath.
“One...”
“Two...”
“Three.”
As if on command, the gentleman nodded gravely and offered what was almost certainly a completely unrelated reply.
William laughed outright. “You've done this before.”
“People are wonderfully predictable.”
He regarded her with open amusement. “You truly ought to write a book.”
“A book?”
“A manual.”
She smiled. “How to Conduct a Perfectly Predictable Courtship.”
“It would become indispensable reading.”
“For whom?”
“Every unmarried gentleman in England.”
Rosalind laughed. “Every unmarried lady would expose the deception before the first chapter had ended.”
William considered that. “Then you will simply have to write a sequel.”
“How to Recognize One.”
“Exactly.”
She laughed again, shaking her head.
It felt wonderfully ordinary.
For a few precious minutes, surrounded by teacups, laughter, and strangers unknowingly performing exactly as expected, she almost forgot why they had come.
William's smile faded first. “There is something else.”
She immediately straightened. “What is it?”
“I received a message from Harding & Sons this morning.”
Something inside her tightened. “The auction house?”
He nodded. “After the last letter, I sent another letter to Harding & Sons. I asked them to make further inquiries on my behalf and to send word immediately if they uncovered anything... or if your father should somehow contact them.”
He reached into his coat and withdrew the folded note. “This was their reply.”
Rosalind watched as his expression darkened.
“The clerk who confirmed your father's payment disappeared during the night.”
Her fingers stilled around her teacup. “What?”
“He abandoned his position. Left his wages behind. Left no forwarding direction.”
Rosalind felt her stomach knot.
Perhaps she ought to begin trusting him, if only a little.
Not blindly. But enough to believe he was as frustrated by this latest setback as she was.
Even so, she intended to ask Nelly to make discreet inquiries among the servants. If anyone knew what had become of the missing auction clerk, the servants' network might uncover it long before a magistrate ever could.
And while she was at it, Nelly could ask about the duchess's curious story as well.
Rosalind had no intention of dismissing either lead until she knew which, if either, deserved to be believed.
She looked up and realized they had been sitting in thoughtful silence for several moments.
Then, remembering their arrangement, she set her teacup down rather more abruptly than she intended.
“We ought to promenade.”
William blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“If we're to convince London that we're courting, we cannot spend the entire afternoon discussing missing earls over tea.”
Understanding dawned almost immediately. A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “An excellent point.”
They rose together.
Unfortunately, they both stepped aside at precisely the same moment.
Rosalind moved left. William moved right.
They collided gently in the narrow space between the table and the window.
She caught herself against his sleeve.
He steadied her almost instinctively, one gloved hand settling lightly around her forearm. “My apologies.”
“No, it was entirely my—”
They stopped.
Once again, they had spoken together.
Heat crept into Rosalind's cheeks.
They stood far closer than propriety—or common sense—recommended.
She became unexpectedly aware of the faint scent of sandalwood lingering about him and of the afternoon sunlight catching in his fair hair.
William looked equally caught off guard. His lips parted, as though he meant to murmur some private observation meant only for her ears.
Instead, he hesitated.
The moment stretched just long enough to make Rosalind wonder what he had almost said.
Then he smiled—a small, almost embarrassed smile—and stepped back, offering her his arm with exaggerated formality. “Shall we give London something to discuss?”
Rosalind slipped her hand through his arm, willing her pulse to settle. “I believe,” she said, hoping her voice sounded steadier than she felt, “we already have.”
William guided her toward the street, smiling easily at everyone they passed.
Rosalind smiled back. She told herself it was for London's benefit.
She only wished her heart seemed equally convinced.