Page 75 of Cocky August Rake

Rose had lived in London all her life, and yet she had seen almost none of it. Reginald had been gone so long that much of it felt new to him as well.

The days passed in a blur, and for most of them, Rose forgot entirely about the place where she lived and worked—and what Reginald still intended to do with it.

Their excursions did not go unnoticed.

Nell watched Rose cross toward the office with knowing eyes, and even Mr. Huxley had taken to peering over his spectacles whenever she appeared upstairs.

Rose wished they wouldn’t.

Their hope followed her everywhere, as though the fate of The Domus rested upon how charming, persuasive—or desirable—she could make herself.

They were all waiting for her to change Reginald’s mind.

But Rose no longer knew whether she could.

In truth, she scarcely knew what she was doing anymore.

All she knew was that the outings felt ridiculously like…

They felt like courtship.

Except Reginald never kissed her.

After that night in the receiving room, he’d pulled away angry with himself and sworn it wouldn’t happen again.

And it hadn’t.

He’d kept a careful distance, despite every lingering glance and charged silence between them. If anything, his restraint had only made the tension harder to ignore.

And yet, he treated her like a Mayfair debutante.

It was maddening.

And aside from outright seducing him again, she wasn’t sure if there was anything she could do differently.

A little past the middle of August, their carriage carried them east through London toward Greenwich.

The crowded streets gradually gave way to wider views of the Thames, its waters thick with sails. Ahead waited the grand Royal Hospital, built for old seamen, and the Observatory rising above it in the park.

It was a place shaped by ships, science, and the men who’d spent their lives at sea.

And by then, Reginald made no pretense about the invitation, and Rose had accepted easily. What did it matter who was showing who around, so long as it contributed toward his positive impression of London at the end of the day?

And Reginald did seem to be enjoying himself. He led her along the river first, where masts crowded the water, and ships passed close enough for her to hear men calling from their decks. Everything was bustling, even despite the grey and threatening skies looming overhead.

As they walked, Reginald pointed out the different rigs and flags, explaining where each vessel might have come from, moving from one to the next almost faster than Rose could follow.

From there, they crossed the grounds of the Hospital and entered the Painted Hall.

Sensing a hush in the room, Rose stopped just inside.

Kings, gods, ships, and clouds climbed the walls and spread across the ceiling until the massive hall seemed to open into another world.

“You’ve been here before?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

“Once,” Reginald said. “With Harry.”

Rose glanced at him. “The duke?”