Page 40 of Undercover with the Heiress
Nothing, he’d replied, his dismissal like a blade across her traitorous heart, but also the absolute truth. He was fast becoming her everything, but she mustn’t allow that to happen. It had to be, had to remainnothing.
He wanted to leave. He wanted to escape the monotony of their lives. He wanted to start over and leave everything behind.
And always, the ache of Imogen hung in the room. Rosanna refused to take second place to anyone, even a memory. If she didn’t contain her ridiculous heart, that’s what she would be. The runner-up. The first loser.
Such certainty did not stop the little pang in her chest, nor the altering of her heart’s rhythm as her husband entered through the double doors, nodded at the staff behind the counter, and paused to survey the room. It didn’t stop the light flitter of anticipation when his gaze found her and he crossed the room in a direct line.
‘You are early,’ she said.
‘Bank holiday,’ he replied. ‘Some anniversary. We closed early, although the rest of the world keeps moving.’ From his dry tone, she couldn’t tell if he was happy with the half day’s leave or annoyed by the break in his week’s rhythm. He frowned across the hubbub of the dining room. ‘What’s all this?’
‘It’s Ammie’s birthday. He’s eleven.’
Phineas’s brow furrowed deeper. He picked up a rosette off the table and spun it between his fingers. ‘Quite a fuss for eleven.’
‘It’s our family tradition to celebrate double numbers at the hotel. If we had a big celebration for everyone each year, it would be never-ending parties and planning. But Papa takes any chance he can to ignore society’s rules, so he doesn’t like to focus on sixteen or twenty-one. He decided that double numbers like 11 or 22, even 33, were special. We still have cake and songs at home for other birthdays, but double numbers we celebrate here.’
‘Master numbers,’ Phineas said confidently, and when she frowned, he added, ‘Angel numbers. Some people believe that those numbers carry meaning. Those who follow the occult and such.’
‘I didn’t think you’d be one for the spiritual sciences,’ she teased, enjoying the return to familiar terrain. This she could manage. She would keep herself in check.
‘I’m not. It’s ridiculous. Numbers are just that. Numbers.’ He pulled out his pocket watch. ‘How long will all this take?’ he asked.
‘Maybe a couple of hours. Mama is putting on a brave face, but she’s still tired. I can’t imagine she’ll let things drag.’
‘I’ll return before then.’
‘You can stay—’ she began, then stopped. He had already spun on his heel, crossed the hall, and left. Petals from one of thebushes beside the entrance skimmed across the mosaic tiles, flipped over one another, and scattered across the path.
‘That doesn’t bode well for the happy couple.’
‘Shut it, Johannes.’ Rosanna crossed her arms as she turned away from her husband’s absence to look up at her younger, although considerably taller, brother. ‘He’s busy, is all.’
‘I think slow, Rosie, but that doesn’t make me a fool. There’s more to this than being compromised in the park.’
‘You didn’t hear Mrs Crofts…’
‘You expect me to believe that Father would let Mrs Crofts even whisper about us, especially you? Out with it.’
Rosanna looked across the room and picked out the handful of staff. Pierre, Nolan—both people they knew and trusted. If anyone overheard, they’d likely not gossip. She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘You can’t tellanyone. Not even Elliot.’
Johannes nodded, then took her by the wrist and led her into a corner of the dining room. They knew from their childhood days that this spot was both in the open, and yet the acoustics wouldn’t carry quiet voices.
At first, the words came out confident and indignant as she told him about the scene in the park and the man who had hit her. She trained her voice into steadiness as she spoke about the way Lord Richard had run off and how Phineas had intervened, how he had thwarted Mrs Crofts’s accusations with a stoic declaration. She spoke of the kidnapping plot to ransom her for her dowry. Only at the mention of the mysterious Imogen on the mantlepiece did her voice catch.
Johannes was always the epitome of a calm, cloudless day, but a hint of ire crept into his tone. ‘What will happen to you when this is over? How is divorce or annulment any better for your reputation?’
‘It’s better than if Lord Richard had compromised me and forced my hand. There’s paperwork, so much paperwork to protect me. Phineas promises I’ll have a clean break, and I’ll be able to start over. He says I’ll have a free life.’
Her brother watched her, his blue eyes penetrating and unsettling. He saw too much, thought too deeply, and who knew what lines and connections he was pulling together in his mind. ‘We should get back to the party,’ she said, but as she turned towards the family, Phineas crossed the threshold once more.
He clasped a small rectangular package wrapped in brown paper in one hand. With a nod at the doorman, he made direct for the dining room. He wove a path between tables and guests towards Ammie, who sat at the table beside Nova, the pair of them wolfing down cake. Johannes made as if to speak, but Rosanna shushed him and inched forwards, her ears straining to hear over the hubbub of the room.
Phineas tapped Ammie on the shoulder, then thrust the parcel onto the table. Ammie sat back in surprise, looked up, and, grinning broadly, scrabbled at the wrapping. The paper fluttered to the floor, and Ammie raised a book to eye level so he could scan the cover.
‘It’s a book about trains,’ Phineas said. ‘So now you can read on your own. Without me.’
Ammie’s expression softened into a slight sadness. ‘You don’t want to read with me?’ he asked.
