Page 48 of The Wallflower Manifesto
He scoffed, lifting his chin in indignation. “I am the very model of discretion,” he told her, winning a roll of her eyes.
“Yes, yes, you are a paragon,” she replied with a fond shake of her head. “No, not that way. Let’s go toward Covent Garden. This is all a big mess.”
He obeyed, falling in step beside her. He could see the strain on her face as clearly as he could feel it from her grip on his arm.
“Tell me you have news of some sort,” she said after a moment, giving an anxious glance up at him. “The happy sort, ideally.”
“Well, I happen to have found the publisher,” he said, gratified by the hopeful widening of her eyes.
“You did?” she breathed.
“Yes, well, I thought I ought to seek you out with something useful rather than just flailing my arms helplessly once I realized,” he told her, giving his jaw a self-conscious scratch. “Though I suppose there was flailing anyhow.”
“I did my fair share as well,” she admitted, gesturing to a bench near the Covent Garden theater where they could sit. “Lady Bentley must have thought I’d gone a little mad. She just seemed relieved that something other than her dance with Dom Raul had sent up the latest fluster.”
He took his place next to her, keeping a wary eye on the crowds of shoppers milling through the square. It was a good thought, he realized, to come here. They were far less likely to be overheard in such a throng.
“There is undoubtedly still going to be chatter about that,” Abe told her. “Even I was scandalized, and I hardly have any ballroom experiences to contrast it with.”
Millie made a flat line with her mouth. “One crisis at a time, please. What did the publisher say?”
“Right. I was told, unsurprisingly, that it was delivered to their offices the night of the ball, but they said it was a young girl who delivered it, with a toff accent.”
“A young girl?” Millie repeated, scrunching up her brow with doubt. “By herself?”
“That’s what they said, though I think it was only the print setters who would have been there so late. I asked what she looked like, hair color, eyes, anything, and only got that she was young and she was pretty.”
“Well, that doesn’t help,” Millie said with a frown. “A posh young woman in the night could have been anyone.”
Abe held his hands up. “Now, now,” he teased. “I’ve only just started.”
Millie looked at him for a moment and then cracked the faintest hint of a smile, swatting at his hands. “I know that,” she said on a sigh. “It’s just … Nothing is ever easy, is it?”
“Nothing worthwhile,” he answered with a shrug. “What did Mrs. Cain say?”
“She said she feels responsible and that I should lie low.”
“And Miss Donnelly?” he prompted, grinning at the narrow-eyed look she tossed him for knowing Ember had been present.
“That it doesn’t matter who is responsible and I should stand tall.”
“Helpful!” he said, nodding.
“Oh, exceedingly,” she replied, her shoulders seeming to relax a bit, despite the sarcasm.
“Well, what does the wise Miss Yardley think, after hearing from her council?” he asked, brushing the hair from her shoulder and settling his hand there, hoping the steadiness of his touch would soothe her. “Her thoughts are the final ones, after all.”
She gave him a soft curve of her lips, raising her own hand to cover his. “She thinks that she misses her sister. Claire’s imaginative approach would have been a useful addition to the suggestions today. I ought to write to her.”
“I just wrote to my own family too,” he said, wishing he could pull her closer and comfort her properly. “It is a universal balm in turbulent times, I suppose.”
She nodded, her honey-brown eyes glinting in the afternoon light. “What doyouthink I should do?”
“I think you should use your words carefully if you write to your sister about this,” he said seriously. “Letters often go missing or are read in transit by overly curious couriers. Unscrupulous folk like myself often pay good money to keep the practice going.”
“I think you have more scruples than you let on,” she said with a tilt of her head. “Speaking of which, how did you handle that business with Mr. Aiden?”
He blinked at her, his brow furrowing when she leaned away from his touch to turn to face him, her expression one of incredulity.
