Page 14 of Undercover with the Heiress
His discontent mumbled something like,Should be grateful I’m helping you at all, but it was quickly silenced by the shame that rushed from his toes through his entire body. For all her sharp bravado, Rosanna was not a worldly woman, and in the time it took for an angry man to smack the back of his handagainst her cheek and tear her dress, her life had been upended. Every dream she’d ever held dear had fled—as fast as the heels of the man who’d promised her a shining future, only to run at the first test of character. For Phineas, there would be a future beyond this. For her, it wasn’t so simple. Even with her reputation somewhat restored, she’d be marked by this moment for years. Was it any wonder she was angry?
‘I’ll get you a hook.’ Phineas pointed at the wall, then shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘I would like you to be comfortable while you are here. I know this isn’t what you planned for yourself. But it is important. And better than the alternative.’
In the dim light of the entrance, her green eyes had grown large. Full of fear and worry, they shone like they had that night in the park when he had allowed himself to be swayed from his path. Rosanna fidgeted with the gold charm bracelet at her wrist. Its jingling filled the entrance, the melody a counter to their angry breaths.
‘Lord Richard gave you that?’ Phineas asked with a nod, even though he already knew the answer. He’d long ago learnt how to read the sweep of a longing hand, of a delicate movement attached to a gentle memory.
She nodded as she spun it, her fingers caressing each little charm.
‘It’s not real,’ he said.
She jerked her head up, and her gaze landed on him, as sharp as a blade. ‘It is. He buys them from a jeweller on the Champs-Élysées.’
‘It’s a good imitation. Good plating. It would still have cost him. Just not what you imagine.’ Phineas crossed the room, caught in a mix of guilt and fortitude. There was no reason to tell her, to remove her from the certainty of her cocoon of truth and love. But she lived in a city built on a bedrock of the lies of men, and they were often exposed through the jewellery and gifts theylavished on their wives and mistresses. It was far better she learnt the truth now, from him, than she discover it for herself after he’d gone.
He took her hand. Unlike in the church, she let him draw her a little closer. He spun the chain. ‘The clasp is always the giveaway. It doesn’t have a proper lock. Middling forgers rarely think to protect from theft. Why would they?’
Such soft hands… Perfect for a lady, the sort that she’d been on the verge of becoming. Her skin was unmarked by the harshness of life that her parents had endured, but despite its inexperience of physical labour, it still held memories. All of a person’s memories could be found in their hands. In rough callouses, in nicks and scars—and in Phineas’s case, in the sweep of a blade across his palm. A scar that marked him as more than a blank slate.
Her expression morphed from a hateful glare, turning inward to sadness and confusion. ‘Why would he lie? Why not just buy silver? Or from a London jeweller?’
Phineas shrugged. ‘Embarrassment. Understanding the importance of appearances. Wanting to stand apart from other men. Not every lie has a malicious seed.’
The summer flush had faded, and the barest hint of rose pink grazed her cheeks. The mass of white lace and silk washed the normally healthy glow from her complexion. Her gaze darted from the chain on her wrist to the wedding band on her opposite hand. Then she looked beyond him, searching, thinking. She was quick. A spark of admiration lit inside him as he followed her shifting expression, as her nimble mind drew together fragments of memory, whispered promises and polite exchanges. He did not know their detail, but he knew the shape of them, all reflected in her eyes as she came to the unwanted conclusion herself.
‘He wanted my money.’ The words dragged out coarse, each syllable so dry and brittle it snapped short in the air. ‘Right from the start. I was second to it, wasn’t I? I spent years wading through men chasing money. Twenty-three, almost twenty-four years old, and I’ve not had one proposal because I would not allow the courting to continue once I spotted a fortune hunter. But I missed him.’
He nodded. False sympathies and lies had no purpose between them. She raised her chin and took a defiant breath, but he saw through her like glass. She was hurting. And she’d be no use to him if she stayed hurt.
‘Felix,’ Phineas called over his shoulder. A few short toe taps, and Felix, slightly ruffled and with his top button unfastened, appeared. ‘Can you fetch the whisky?’
‘Sir, it’s not Christmas. And it’s eleven in the morning.’ Felix shot a look at Rosanna as he fastened his top collar button.
‘It’sherChristmas.’ Phineas pulled his face into an expression which he hoped looked conciliatory. He didn’t smile often and wasn’t sure his muscles were arranged right. ‘And can you rustle us up something to eat? We left the wedding breakfast in a bit of a rush.’
‘Toast?’ Felix asked. ‘You haven’t asked for anything other than toast in more than seven years.’ He turned to Rosanna. ‘You like toast, ma’am?’
Rosanna shook her head. ‘Not particularly.’
Felix frowned. ‘We only have bread in the pantry and few cooking implements, save a toasting fork and a few plates and pans. I doubt there’s even an egg.ForyearsI’ve been waiting to use that kitchen. And now a request, and no notice. With some warning, I could have at least stocked something other than butter and jam.’
‘Head out, then!’ Phineas waved a hand at the door. ‘Find some cheese. Ask a neighbour.’
‘And in the current state of the street, who do you suggest?’ Felix shot back.
Phineas bit his lip as he counted out each house, numbers one through ten. ‘Miss Delaney. She’ll understand, be generous, and have a stocked larder. Don’t go to her door though, head straight to the kitchens. She has company.’
Felix shot Phineas a disapproving look, then grumbled down the shadowy hallway. He re-emerged a moment later, wearing a flat cap and a coat. He continued muttering abouttoastandtimeuntil the door closed and silenced his complaints.
‘I usually take breakfast on this level, in the room that overlooks the courtyard.’ Phineas tipped his head at the hallway. ‘Do you know the way?’
Rosanna studied the blank walls as if she hadn’t heard him. Her eyes darted left to right like she was reading, and with an uncomfortable jolt, he realised she was readinghim. She turned in a slow circle, and once she had canvassed every inch of his unwelcoming entrance hall, she stepped through the door and into the corridor.
He followed her as she moved confidently through the lobby, past the staircase, then into the short strip that led to the dining room. A confection of white silks and lace, Rosanna glowed luminescent against the dull walls which were devoid of memories. He’d never bothered to change the paint in any room. Never called a decorator, never even instructed Felix to coat a wall in green or yellow or hang a boring painting of the Thames. He’d never attended to anything more than basic furniture, filled the rooms that had use to him with the essentials, and gone about his life.
And why would he? He hadn’t planned to stay.
Not for seven years.
