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***
Nearly an hour later, Henry stalked through the lobby of Claridge’s Hotel. The traffic had been an endless snarled mess, and his knee ached from the discomfort of standing in place on a crowded omnibus for so long. He half expected her to be gone when he finally arrived. Just as he had predicted, the place was mobbed with tourists and Londoners alike. Henry had to practically shove his way through the crowd to the Reading Room, where tea was held every afternoon. A bored-looking man he assumed was the maître d’ greeted Henry, but he waved him away.
“I’m looking for someone,” he snapped.
The room was filled with finely dressed people chattering away, but his sharp gaze immediately landed on Lady Arlington, seated at a prime table by a window with another woman. As she tilted her head back to laugh, Henry’s traitorous heart beat just a little faster at the sight of her smooth, elegant neck. He imagined pressing his lips to the silken skin along the underside of her jaw. Would she still smell like a spring meadow? And would she tremble at the lightest touch, just as she once had—
Stop it.
Henry forced himself to focus on his throbbing knee and wove his way through the maze of tables, propelled by the sheer force of his irritation. Lady Arlington’s companion took notice of his approach first, and her eyes widened in recognition.
Dolly Dutton had debuted the same season as the viscountess, though he guessed she had married by now. Henry came alongside them and addressed the top of Lady Arlington’s hat, which, for reasons far beyond him, was decorated to resemble a forest scene with copious amounts of fake foliage and even a tiny bird’s nest. He would never understand fashion.
“My lady,” he said with unimpeachable politeness. “I believe you forgot we had an appointment today. At one o’clock.”
She slowly looked up at him and blinked, her expression perfectly tranquil. “I did not forget. I simply didn’t see the need. Mr. Khan already told you everything of consequence.” Then she narrowed her eyes in challenge. “Or are younotthe brilliant investigator everyone makes you out to be?”
“I cannot speak to what others say about me, madam,” he began, just as courteous as before. “But the fact remains that while Mr. Khan was incredibly helpful, onlyyoucan describe the man who followed you home last Friday.”
Her companion let out a gasp, but Henry’s gaze never left Lady Arlington’s. Only a slight wrinkle between her brows betrayed her annoyance.
“Oh. That,” she said.
“Georgiana, is this true?” Dolly asked.
Lady Arlington reluctantly turned to her. “Yes, but don’t make a fuss, Dolly. You know how I hate it.” Then she glanced back at Henry. “Don’t worry. The intrepid Captain Harris is on the case, but I’m afraid I’ll need to leave.”
“Of course, of course!” Dolly said before giving Henry a warm smile. “It’s soniceto see you again, Captain.”
Henry grunted in response as Lady Arlington pushed her chair back and rose with her customary elegance. Without thinking he offered her his arm, and she paused for one barely perceptible moment before taking it.
It was a mistake.
He flinched at the feel of her gloved hand against him, even though it was the lightest of touches. If she noticed, she gave no indication. They then made their way toward the exit. With every step, he took in some new detail: the brush of her puffed sleeve against his shoulder, the involuntary flex of her fingers on his arm, the scent of her achingly familiar flowery perfume filling the scant space between them. Henry was so absorbed in cataloging these tiny details that they had nearly reached the exit before he became aware that the din of the room had lowered noticeably. The occupants of every table they passed shot them barely veiled looks of interest, and more than a few heads bent together to whisper. To his dawning horror, Henry realized he had made a spectacle of them both by storming in here and then leaving together. Lady Arlington was the kind of woman who made regular appearances in the gossip pages. The kind of woman whose movements were endlessly dissected and commented on. The kind of woman who could easily become the center of a scandal, even through no fault of her own.
“Thank you for the table, Paul,” Lady Arlington said graciously to the maître d’. “Everything was perfect, as usual.”
“A pleasure, my lady. I hope you come again soon.” The man then shot Henry a knowing look. “And with Captain Harris next time.”
Lady Arlington gave a charming laugh in response, but Henry had the urge to punch the man in his smug face.
“I’m sorry,” Henry said once they were outside and waiting for her carriage. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Lady Arlington kept her gaze fixed ahead. “Whatever for?”
He wasn’t fooled by her bored drawl. “I drew unnecessary attention to you. We’ll be lucky if this isn’t written about in the evening papers.”
The carriage pulled up and a footman opened the door.
“How interesting,” Lady Arlington began as she stepped out of Henry’s hold and allowed the footman to help her into the carriage. He frowned at the loss of contact. “I didn’t know you kept up with the gossip pages, Captain,” she said and flashed him an all too familiar grin over her shoulder before turning away. Though her beauty had first caught his eye, it was her cheek that had ensnared his heart. Henry wasn’t sure what that said about him. Surely nothing good. He scowled at her back and climbed in after her, taking the seat opposite. As the carriage pulled into traffic, she tucked her steel gray skirts neatly around her, and for a moment Henry was riveted to the smooth, precise movement of her hands.
Before he could stop himself the image of her in the Harringtons’ music room came to him. He had been waiting for Tobias in a lavish upstairs parlor when the sound of piano music drifted into the room. The piece was infused with a melancholy that spoke to the deepest, most secret part of him, luring him away from the room and down the hall, where he paused in a doorway, dumbstruck by the sight of a young lady seated at a grand piano, her brow furrowed in concentration as her hands seemed to waltz across the keyboard.
Henry was so engrossed in the music that it took him a moment to realize who he was staring at.
Miss Fox.
“If you’re going to hover like that, you might as well come help turn the pages,” she teased before she looked over her shoulder and froze. “Oh! I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
