She was uncomfortable about something and not just his request.
‘Hope?’
Her spine stiffened as she winced. ‘I sort of took your advice on that.’
‘Which means you didn’t take it at all, did you?’
‘I thought I would try an experiment...and I sent it to him via messenger instead of visiting...only I didn’t send it as me...not after last time. Though I am in two minds about the hasty decision now.’ She stood and began to nervously pace the tiny confines of her balcony. ‘You see, in a moment of temper, I made a name up to see if that made a difference to the way it was received.’ She stopped pacing to glance at him, then quickly away. ‘I sent those chapters as H. B. Rooke and gave him my grandparents’ postal address in Whitstable instead of here.’
‘A very smart move.’ Even though he was put out that she would allow that faceless Cooper fellow to read it before him, he couldn’t help but admire her industry and the clever subtlety of the name she had chosen.
She huffed out a relieved breath. ‘Do you think so?’
‘Of course! That way, when he raves about it, as he undoubtedly will, and begs you to allow him to be your publisher and offers a king’s ransom for the privilege, you will be able to prove to him categorically that a girl can write a book that people want to buy. That’s presuming you are going to reveal that you are the genius behind it, as I’d hate to see the fictional and androgynous H. B. Rooke on the bookshelves when it is Hope who deserves to be there.’
‘Precisely!’ She beamed at him across the railings and it made his heart stutter. ‘You see right through my fiendish plan.’ Then the smile wavered. ‘Only now I have to go through the unmitigated torture of waiting...perhaps for the axe to fall yet again...and it will be an interminable wait thanks to the detour it will take via Whitstable.’
Of its own accord, his hand reached over to cover hers on the railings and something odd happened because he felt it everywhere. Even the night air around them seemed charged with something extraordinary. ‘Good things come to those who wait, Hope. Mark my words, Mr Cooper will lovePhantasmaand so will the world once they get to read it.’
‘How can you know that when I haven’t even let you read it yet?’
‘Because you wrote it, Hope, and you are brilliant.’ She was too. Brilliant, unique and dazzling. ‘And before you argue that inescapable fact and accuse me of being kind, in the short time I have known you, I know without a shadow of a doubt that you are the most brilliant and clever young lady I have ever met.’
‘Sometimes, Lord Trouble, you say the nicest things...’ She gazed intently at the spot where their bodies joined and swallowed, making him wonder if the simple, innocent touch was having the same spellbinding effect on her as it was on him, until she gently tugged her hand away and retreated back a step as if she needed to put some uncharged air between them. Then her eyes locked with his—part wary, part bemused. ‘If you carry on being so charming, and despite my better judgement, I might even have to start considering you a friend.’
From a woman who had good reason to have scant regard of men, that honour felt special and humbling—though worryingly nowhere near enough. And by the way she instantly straightened as soon as the tender words were spoken, and briskly turned her back to him to pick up the pile of her precious handwritten pages on her table, clearly intent on rushing inside, she was mortified to have shown him that she cared.
He almost reached out to twist her back to see exactly what she was feeling for himself, but realised that if her need mirrored his he would be left undone and there was a very real chance he might kill whatever it was that tenuously was building by acting upon it.
Which, of course, he was in no position to do.
To cover the sudden veil of awkwardness which now hung between them as well as preserve the genuine friendship which was blossoming between them, Luke attempted a flirty grin as he leaned nonchalantly on the railings and churned out the sort of words she would expect and which would set them back on their almost but not quite even keel.
‘I knew my boyish charm would eventually win you over.’
Whatever was going on between them wasn’t something either of them were in any hurry to explore just yet and, with his life more complicated and burdened than it ever had been before, that was probably just as well. He needed a friend now more than he needed the responsibility of being more than one, when he could barely walk under the weight of all his myriad responsibilities as it was. A short dalliance was one thing, but he knew already he wouldn’t be able to settle for a dalliance with her.
‘If we are friends, Hope, does that mean I can finally read your first chapter now?’
She turned, hugging the papers to her chest, her familiar bored mask fastened firmly in place again.
‘Ifandwhenwe are friends, Luke, and only when the book is finished...maybe.’ The ghost of a smile and something else still lingered in her eyes. ‘But thank you for the tea and the toast. Unlike your company, they were excellent.’
Chapter Nine
The new Marquess of Thundersley made his debut in the House of Lords today and stunned everyone present with his eloquence during a debate on the state of England’s roads. His arguments for improving them were apparently so convincing he swayed several committed naysayers into voting for the bill. Could it be, Dear Reader, that we have misjudged him...?
Whispers Behind the Fan
June 1814
It had been the first time Luke had set eyes on Abigail in a fortnight and as they were in plain sight of at least a hundred excited opera goers crowded in the foyer during the interval, there was no polite way to avoid her without causing a scene. His own fault. If he had stayed with Augustus who was still holding court in the corner, and not wandered off to see what, or more likely who, was keeping Hope, this harpy would never have had the opportunity to catch him alone.
‘Good evening, Lucius.’ She proffered her glove-covered hand so that he could kiss it and he found himself strangely grateful for the reassuring layer of dark satin which spared him from touching her skin. ‘You have proved to be a difficult man to pin down now that you have become quite the gentleman about town.’
‘Abigail.’
Even that single, tart greeting took all his effort to muster. He stared wistfully over at Hope now on her way back from the retiring room and, in typically Hope fashion, she had inadvertently dragged along some bothersome flotsam and jetsam in her wake.
