It was a rare thing, seeing Fanny so openly uncertain.
The weight of it settled between them—unspoken, undeniable.
But before Blanche could respond, Lady Gooldwer suddenly stiffened, her attention snapping toward the window.
And then?—
“My heavens!” She all but sprang from her seat, clutching the edge of the windowsill as though it were a lifeline.
Fanny, startled, set down her brush, while Blanche instinctively turned.
Outside, the sleek silhouette of a carriage rolled up the drive, the golden crest upon the door unmistakable even in the fading sunlight.
Lady Gooldwer all but trembled with delight. “It’s His Grace.”
Blanche’s fingers tightened involuntarily around the edges of her book.
Fanny let out a breath, watching the scene unfold with measured contemplation. “How very intriguing…”
Blanche barely had time to steady herself. Fanny, ever composed, smoothed the folds of her skirt, while Blanche did the same, as if adjusting the fabric might settle the unease rising within her.
Lady Gooldwer, however, had no such reservations.
With startling enthusiasm, she surged toward the entrance, her beloved pugs trotting beside her, their eager yips filling the corridor.
The door swung open with an unrestrained flourish.
“Your Grace!” Lady Gooldwer exclaimed, her voice laced with delighted reverence. “What an unexpected pleasure.”
Heath barely acknowledged her greeting. His gaze settled upon Blanche almost instantly, sharp and intent.
The faintest trace of amusement lingered in his expression—knowing, deliberate, a silent provocation she could not quite decipher.
Blanche inhaled, willing herself to meet his eyes without faltering. “What brings you here, Your Grace?”
A slow, lingering smile curved his lips.
“I came to surprise my future wife.”
The wheels of Heath’s carriage rattled over uneven cobblestones, the rhythmic jostle accompanying their journey through London’s bustling streets.
Blanche pressed herself closer to the shadows of the interior, fingers brushing over the heavy folds of the curtain, as she discreetly shifted the fabric, angling it just enough to shield herself from view.
Heath, ever observant, caught the movement at once.
“Are we in hiding, Lady Blanche?” he mused, voice dipped in lazy amusement. “Or have I unwittingly taken you on the run from the authorities?”
Blanche stiffened slightly, refusing to grant him the satisfaction of a response.
“Don’t be absurd, Your Grace.”
Heath smirked, shifting ever so slightly, deliberately encroaching upon the space she had carved for herself.
“So, I am to believe this newfound shyness is a mere coincidence?”
Blanche exhaled, fixing her gaze upon the view beyond him—anything to avoid his knowing gaze.
Lady Gooldwer, oblivious to their exchange, released a delighted sigh.
