Page 59 of Undercover with the Heiress
‘I am nineteen, and I haven’t debuted either. That is, I mean… I’m not so good with society. I avoid it when I can,’ he confessed.
‘My sister Beatrice is very confident. Perhaps you can join her dramatics club?’
Mr Robinson rolled his mouth to suppress a smile. ‘Perhaps I might.’ At the doorway to the clerks’ offices, he glanced across the room, frowning. ‘He must have stepped out for a moment. He’s normally at his desk right here. He works with Mr—Mr Taylor!’ Robinson waved. ‘Have you seen Mr Babbage?’
Fury propelled Rosanna across the room and between the desks. A flick of her riding crop wiped the smug smile from his face, and Taylor, who she would bet ten years of her allowance was not Taylor but the fiend who had started all of this, let out a yelp. ‘You dare to threaten me?’ She levelled her crop at his chest. ‘Where is my husband?’
His hard eyes narrowed. ‘Safe.’
Chapter Twenty-five
Phineas threw himself at the door. A sharp spasm of pain radiated through his chest as he collided with cold steel, and in the smothering darkness, he knocked an elbow against the shelves.
‘No!’ he shouted, the word swallowed by the tight confines of the safe. ‘Not now. Not like this.’
Darker than midnight in winter, shapeless and compressed, the small world inside the safe contained not even a blink of light. He raised his fist to thump against the door, but his fear dissolved into despair and sunk from his stomach, unbuckling his knees before pooling in his heels. Phineas pressed his hand against the steel, then scrunched his fingers into his palm, his nails scraping the flesh. He collapsed, huddled awkwardly in the small gap between the door and the shelves, defeated. It wouldn’t matter how loudly he cried. No one would hear him. Even as the office filled, the safe would not allow a peep to escape. He could holler all day if there was enough air—and in a fireproof safe, there was not. Not to last an entire day. If they figured out where he was, maybe they’d fetch one of thesenior clerks and bring him across town to the bank to dial the combination. Maybe, when they came down to fetch the money for the bank tellers upstairs, they’d open this safe and find him.
Maybe they’d get to him in time.
The little bud of hope shrivelled and died. He was too much of a realist to hold fast to such a notion. Too good at calculating outcomes and assessing situations. And the forecast for him, now…
Insurmountably bleak.
Phineas pinched his eyes tight against the sting. Goddamn feelings were a waste to him now, but he couldn’t stem the pathetic flood of self-pity. How he loved her. How very much he’d been looking forward to learning how to live with her beside him. So extraordinary, so full of vitality and confidence. Worthy of so much more than a no-name bank clerk, but deigning to love him anyway.
Pennington was right—she’d be better off without him. She’d gain the chance for a proper new beginning. A slate wiped clean. After a year in black dress, she could step out into the world on her own terms. She’d create her own tomorrow. And he, who should be dead a dozen times over, would slip into the ether with the knowledge that an exceptional woman loved him. Quick as a whip, sharp and calculating, eyes like spring and skin that smelt like roses and sunshine. His enchanting Rosanna.
It was more than he should have hoped for, more than he’d ever dared to wish for. He’d experienced an eternity in an evening, forever in a day, and heaven in a sunbeam. At least he would die a redeemed man.
This would be his happy ending. A happier ending than any he deserved.
Tick.
Tick.
Like a watch, but not. Not the right rhythm. Not the right pace.
Tick.
Tick.
Clunk.
Light flared, white and ghastly. Phineas scrunched his eyes against the bright onslaught until it squeezed its way between his lids. Coughs, shouts, and clamouring voices bounced off the safe’s walls. Gradually, the world shifted into focus. Someone sat before him, crouched low. Someone with dark hair and a familiar smile.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.
Lawrence tapped Phineas’s cheek. ‘No one fucks with my family, Babbage. I told you. Having people to care about makes us stronger, not weaker. If you plan on being Rosie’s husband, you’d do best not to forget that.’
Phineas squinted, and as the fuzzy outlines sharpened, he picked out the sprawled form of Pennington, flat and comatose on the floor with a towering Johannes over him alongside someone else.
‘Robinson?’
Robinson hopped from foot to foot, tight and trembling. ‘I listen, sir. Just like you told me. I didn’t know all the numbers, but Mr Hempel here guessed the last one.’
‘Guessed?’
Lawrence winked. ‘Some habits die hard.’
