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He breathed in and held it. When he released it, it sounded like a sigh. “I never imagined I would ever meet a woman like you. I didn’t think a woman like you even existed.”
For an odd reason, Fanny found herself smiling. “I am not unlike the other ladies of your acquaintance, surely. I would place a high bet that each of their hands have perspired as a result of nervousness before.” She leaned toward his ear and whispered, “Have you ever considered the true reason women wear gloves at parties?”
Mr. Wellington was silent. Fanny could only imagine his shock at her words. A shaking began within her chest, bubbling up and up, until a loud and unladylike laugh burst from her mouth.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped between giggles. “I am being very inconsiderate once again.” She hiccupped between breaths. “I am supposed to be describing my feelings. Yes.”
Mr. Wellington took a step forward, pulling her along beside him. “I trust you have recovered from that bout of laughter?”
Fanny wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard a smile—just a hint of a smile—in his voice. It was likely more smirk than smile, but the thought still warmed the inside of her chest. It wasn’t a frown. That was enough for now.
“Yes,” she answered, resuming her studious tone.
“I am counting myself fortunate. What a dreadful laugh you have.”
Fanny gasped. She had half a mind to search for his foot on the floor so she could stomp on it. “What fault do you find now in my laugh?”
Mr. Wellington shifted to the side, guiding her around a large object in the middle of the floor. Fanny could see a faint outline, one shade lighter than black. Her eyes were finally adjusting. He seemed to be considering his words carefully. “There is no fault in it. I just find it…interesting how easily you do it.”
“Percy Wellington, I daresay you have never giggled in your entire lifetime.”
He scoffed. “And I can promise you now that I shall nevergiggle. I grant you permission to murder me if I am ever foundgiggling.”
“What about a good, hearty laugh? What then? I will claim one from you eventually, no matter how much you despise my company.” Fanny waited, smiling in the darkness, hoping that he might contradict her.
“I will take it as a challenge,” he said.
Fanny was grinning without reservation now. “Very well. If I catch you with even a whisper of laughter proceeding from that mouth of yours, I shall be allowed something of my choosing.”
He paused. “And what might that be?”
“Whatever my heart so desires at the moment.” She shrugged.
He stopped moving. “I cannot agree to that.”
“Why not?”
“Because that is too large a risk on my end.”
“Do you not find risks unalterably exciting?” Fanny asked through a laugh. “Perhaps you will acquire an adventurous spirit from our time together. However long that may be,” she finished in a quiet voice.
“I don’t intend to throw you out. No matter how exasperating…” He took a huffed breath. “I suppose we'll just have to learn to tolerate one another.”
“Is that what we are doing now? Because I find it much easier than being in a constant battle. Tolerance is the first step to friendship.” She smiled, just a quirk of her lips, and laughed softly.
Mr. Wellington didn’t say anything. He cleared his throat, changing the subject. “I know where the door is now, I think. But I’m leaving it up to you to find it.”
“But I lack the experience—”
“Snap your fingers in front of you,” he interrupted. “Listen to the echoes. The sound changes when we come closer to the wall or an object. Tap your foot on the floor and listen,” he whispered.
Fanny stomped—rather hard—against something on the ground.
Percy grunted in pain.
“Sorry!” she exclaimed, fighting back laughter once again. Stomping on his toes gave her more satisfaction than she would ever admit to, though she truly hadn’t done it on purpose. She snapped her fingers and strained her ears. Still clutching Mr. Wellington’s arm, she walked forward and snapped again. She started walking again. “I don’t hear any change—” Fanny gasped as she stumbled over something else on the ground. She straightened and huffed in frustration. “What is this room? Has it ever been cleaned?”
“It’s the place I keep the things I rarely use. Statues, instruments, furniture.”
