The door flew open as Constance kicked it.Her generously curved figure, framed in the opening, was swathed in an embroidered silk dressing gown.Dark hair spilled over her shoulders in wet, glorious waves.
“Tub’s open, Stuffy,” she announced cheerfully.
Neil stared at her.
Constance shamelessly eyed his bare forearms before flouncing away.“I’m off to go air dry.”
Her words from earlier that afternoon rang through Ellie’s mind.
It’s time to consider more extreme measures…
Would Constance actually do it?Entering into a fake engagement seemed excessive, even for Ellie’s danger-magnet friend.Neil would also have to agree to the arrangement—and he patently disliked anything that hinted of scandal and danger.
But then, he was also afflicted with a distinct chivalrous streak.
Ellie wondered if she ought to warn him.It would be the sisterly thing to do, she supposed… but the notion of actually pushing the words out of her lips turned her throat dry with mortification.
I think Constance might be planning to fake engage you.
Neil ran an exhausted hand over his drawn features, unsettling his spectacles again.“I’d best go wash up.”
He staggered for the bath.
Well, there would be time to consider the matter again later, Ellie supposed… and then tried not to feel too guilty about the relief that washed over her at avoiding the situation for now.
Mr.Mahjoud sat on the sofa in his elegant silk pajamas, reading a book.Ellie took a nosy peek at the title before she caught the dragoman glaring at her over the top of the pages.
She gave him an awkwardly apologetic smile.
A tell-tale orange glow flared beyond the doors to the balcony.Intuiting its significance, Ellie slipped outside, eager to escape the tired weight of Mr.Mahjoud’s perpetual disapproval.
The air was fresh and cool in the aftermath of the rain.Adam leaned against the rail, a cigar held casually between his fingers—but he seemed to have forgotten it, his attention focused on the object in his other hand.
Ellie caught a flash of gold framing an ivory face where a needle pointed north.It was Adam’s compass—the one his father had once given him.
The finish was scratched and dented.Rust stained the hinges.
Ellie recalled the engraving from inside the lid.
May you always know your path.-GB
Adam clicked it shut as he looked up, slipping it into his pocket.His mouth curved into a wry smile as he wiggled the cigar.“I know.It’s a terrible habit.”
Ellie’s thoughts were momentarily stalled by the enticing sight of his well-muscled figure.“Mr.Mahjoud is reading the rail timetable,” she reported awkwardly.
“How much you wanna bet he’s hiding a romantic novel in there?”Adam suggested mischievously.
Ellie frowned skeptically.“Machiavelli, perhaps.”
“My money’s on Jane Austen.”
The night was soft with gloom.Adam was gently illuminated by the light filtering through the balcony doors and the glow of his cigar.Windows glinted with warmth in the surrounding buildings, filtered through colorful curtains.
Adam’s gaze dropped to Ellie’s robe—and warmed.“I remember this one.”
“I suppose you would.”
Ellie had been wearing the same garment when Adam had kicked through a washroom door into her life.The length of blue silk was far less practical than Ellie’s usual wardrobe—but Constance had packed it, and there hadn’t been much time for shopping over the last few whirlwind weeks.
