Page 36 of Undercover with the Heiress
Her heart thumped hard, just once, then turned, like a cog shifting and falling into place with a dull clunk.
‘Oh no.’ Rosanna covered her mouth with her hand to smother the realisation, even though there was no one close by to witness her unravelling. And the cog creaked, wound tight, then rolled into motion, as unstoppable as an engine.
This was bad.
This was very, very bad.
The worst thing imaginable had happened.
She was falling in love with her husband.
Chapter Fifteen
Fat drops thwacked against the stretched skin of the umbrella. Phineas skirted a puddle. Ahead of him, the tall wall of his home came into view, and against the gloom, the windows which faced the park glowed warm with yellow light. He took his next few steps a little faster. He’d stayed back later than he’d intended to help Taylor with some paperwork, and rain had settled in sometime between his arrival and departure at the end of the half-workday Saturday.
Provided she hadn’t decided to decorate another room, Rosanna would likely be discussing the week’s menu with Jean or maybe visiting Elise or her family. She would be busy, and the house would be quiet, and he would be able to think through the problem of Argonauts Trading and Lord Richard and just how much Pennington had to do with it all. If he reported it to senior management, they might pull back from selling shares, but that didn’t change what Lord Richard owed, and it didn’t change life for Rosanna. He’d promised her a clean break and a future on her own terms. He couldn’t fail. Not again.
Those two wheel ruts in the snow… The memory of them was seared into his eyelids, taunting him whenever he closed his eyes to sleep. Over the years, he had returned to the bridge at random times to try to conjure up some spark that might lead to a clue, but he visited the place every day in his memory. Christmas had never been much of a happy time, but ever since that day, the richness of it was infused with his failure. The stone, normally grey blue, blackened with moisture and glistening stark against the crystals of snow. The smell of pine and woodsmoke, harmonious choruses; the cleanness of cold air… All of them screamed,Where were you. She trusted you. You failed.
Phineas paused at the bottom of his front steps. The cat sat on the landing before the door, his tail flicking lazily back and forth.
‘Evening, Spencer,’ he said, as if the cat might give him a response.
Spencer licked a paw. He sniffed the air, then leapt off the landing and scampered into the bushes.
A slight light, wider than it should have been, painted a line around the edge of the door.
His front door stood ajar.
Phineas took the steps in two swift strides. Shouts, cries, and hollering came from inside, and cold fear ran through him. Had Lord Richard come for Rosanna? He’d imagined his home, full of staff, even in their bumbling ways, a safe place for her. Had the lord been desperate enough to break in? Phineas threw a silent prayer to the god he didn’t believe in that she was giving them the better of the fighting.
He listened hard, then nudged the door open. He closed his umbrella and scanned the entrance for a more suitable weapon, but amongst all the knick-knacks and things stuffed onto the side table, there was nothing more menacing. He twisted the umbrella handle between his palms. Anything was better than nothing.
‘Raah!’
Phineas tensed and swung—but stopped when a person half his height and wearing a homemade wolf mask leapt into the doorway. The creature clawed at the air.
‘I am a huntsman,’ someone further down the hall bellowed. Notsomeone… Was that Hugh, the butler? ‘I will get you, wolf.’ The wolf squealed and scampered out of sight. Hugh’s broad frame flashed across the entrance to the hallway, so fast that Phineas only knew who it was from his voice.
Phineas lowered his umbrella. Pandemonium echoed through his house. Laughter bounced off the walls, colliding in the landing of the stairwell and the hall. The lights cast odd angles, and the air weighed heavy with the smell of sweat and sugar and hot food.
It was not the chaos of a home invasion.
It was far, far worse.
Hempels. Hundreds of them. Perhaps not actual hundreds, but far more than the one he was accustomed to, and she was problematic enough. One clapped down the stairs, screaming, while another followed, growling like a bear. One shrieked, another cried out, then giggled, and feet tramped and ran and pounded from all directions. One of the small ones leapt into the entrance, turned in a lopsided pirouette with her hands raised above her head, and tiptoed away.
‘Felix!’ Phineas shouted. ‘Are you here?’
A head poked around the corner. Not Felix. ‘Evening, Mr Babbage. How was your morning?’ Nanny Abigail scooped a child up and onto her hip. This one was smaller than the princess one, with blonde curls and green eyes the same shade as Rosanna’s.
‘Productive. Confusing.’ Phineas looked past her, still searching for Felix or any member of his staff, even the one that was always singing. ‘Why are you in my house? You shouldbe next door.’ He patted the dividing wall in demonstration. ‘Through there. Where you all live. And I can’t hear you.’
The child on her hip squeezed a cheek, and Nanny Abigail jerked her face out of reach, brushing a curl aside with a tender hand. ‘Little baby Hazel had a fever these past two nights and half of today. It seems like she’s come through the worst of it, but poor mistress is terribly tired but still so worried she can’t sleep. I don’t think she’s closed her eyes since the babe first felt warm. Mr Hempel is with her. He promised to watch the baby so she might relax a little and hopefully get some rest.’
‘Where is Rosanna?’
Nanny Abigail bounced the child in her arms. ‘She’s gone to the Aster with Johannes. There’s a big crowd in tonight, and Grandpa Robert, he’s good with a menu but not much good in a crush. And Mr Hempel doesn’t trust anyone but Rosie at these things anyway.’
