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“You can work it out.” She recalled his words from the night before, when he chose the rose. “I have heard it said you are an inventive problem-solver.”
A new gleam mixed with the trouble in his eyes. “You have heard that, have you?”
His look was so warm she could feel herself melting. Longing for his touch.
His touch. Her longing. His departure. Her humiliation.
She yanked herself away from him and was halfway across the room when, from somewhere else in the house, came a sound that froze her in her tracks.
“Did you hear that?” she said.
“Hear what? What?”
She cocked her head to listen, dread clawing at her stomach. There it was again: a woman’s laugh, bright like crystal.
“No,” she said. “It can’t be.”
But it was. A moment later, the butler was at the door, announcing Miss Lucy Lightwell and Miss Emily Lightwell.
“She brought Emily?” she said faintly, as another burst of laughter hit her ears, heading up the stairs, if she wasn’t mistaken. She turned to Sir Gordon, who was gathering his papers. “Sir Gordon! Mama is at home alone!”
He nodded, understanding as few did. “I’ll send an express to have someone check on her.” He tucked his dossiers under his arm. “I’ll see myself out. Mr. DeWitt and I will communicate regarding the next steps. Let me know if I can assist you further.”
“I may require your services again very soon,” Cassandra said, marching past him. “As I’m about to murder my sister.”
Chapter 17
Joshua bounded up the stairs after Cassandra, who was already talking as she entered the drawing room.
“Lucy, how could you!” Cassandra was saying. “Have you no idea how dangerous it is, to travel alone from London?”
“Spare me, Mother Cassandra,” drawled a melodious female voice. “I did not come all this way for your nagging.”
The voice belonged to a young woman with glossy dark hair, big green eyes, and delicate features arranged so artfully that parts of Joshua’s brain crashed into each other and he almost forgot how to walk. A red-haired girl with a sickly, anxious air stood by the table, her hand resting on a large, covered basket.
“I like Cassandra’s nagging,” Joshua said. He stopped next to his wife, pressed a hand to the small of her back. This time, at least, she did not pull away. “You must be the legendary Lucy.”
Lucy inspected him from top to toe. “And you must be—Oh my,” she said, looking past him.
He twisted to see Isaac, leaning nonchalantly on his cane with an easy, rakish charm.
Lucy’s eyes flicked between Joshua and Isaac. “Which one of you handsome devils is Mr. DeWitt?”
“We both are,” Joshua said, his mood beginning to lift.
“Two Misters DeWitt!” Lucy stepped forward, all grace and coquetry. “No wonder Cassandra has kept her husband secret these past two years—she had two of you! You greedy thing, Cassandra. And you scold me when I so much as look at the baker’s son.”
“The baker’s son hasn’t the constitution to handle your looks, Lucy,” Cassandra said. “It upsets him and he crushes the bread.”
“Do tell how it works,” Lucy said. “One woman with two men.”
“I could draw you a picture,” Joshua offered, which earned him a wifely elbow in his ribs. He was starting to enjoy himself, despite everything, but before he could tease Cassandra some more, Das sauntered in.
Joshua’s enjoyment faded. No, not Das. Please, not Das.
“Look at you,” Lucy crooned to Das. “You’re brown!”
“Lucy!” Cassandra scolded, but Joshua was curious to see what happened next.
