Page 9 of Undercover with the Heiress
Rosanna turned the corner into the next stairwell. From somewhere down the corridor, baby Hazel squawked, and her mother hushed. Rosanna turned the next corner.
‘Rosie, was your friend a lord? Or a count? I forget.’
On the landing, Rosanna shot a look into the drawing room to locate the owner of the voice. Amadeus had contorted himself to fit into the window ledge, his back flat against the wooden frame, knees to his chest, and feet in the air. His hair hung on end with his face upside down.
‘Not now, Ammie, I’m late! He’s waiting for me outside.’
‘I’ll let him know you’re on your way!’ Amadeus swung himself upright, all lanky limbs and elbows. He levered up the window, pushed it ajar, and stuck his head through the gap. ‘She’ll be down in a jiffy, lord sir countliness,’ he shouted.
‘Ammie! I’m trying to be proper!’ she scolded.
Ammie shrugged, swinging himself to turn upside down again.
The door at the bottom of the stairs opened, and Nanny Abigail stepped into the entrance. One hand clasped the unsteadily toddling Thaddeus while the other ushered a red-caped Ottile across the threshold.
‘The Misses Hartrights are out front,’ Nanny called up to her, her focus steady on the children. ‘Talking to that lord chap that keeps sending you boxes. I think Miss Petunia was trying to recruit him into her choir.’
‘Oh, dear heavens, they are meant to be chaperoning us, not talking about singing.’ Rosanna skittered down the final staircase and paused before the door. She shook out her dress,fanned herself a little, then paused. Were her cheeks flushed? Was her skin blotchy? She tookone, two, threecalming breaths. Just like they taught at finishing school.
Just like a lady would.
Tonight, if he asked, she would say yes.
She’d have her dress made by House of Worth.
They’d be married in the cathedral closest to his family estate.
She’d pick a date in autumn, when the leaves changed and set the oak trees ablaze with colour and the cooler wind made walking more pleasant.
They’d honeymoon abroad, in Paris or Lucerne.
They’d spend the London season in a townhouse in Mayfair, or by the park.
And all of it would be a world away from the madness of Number 3, Honeysuckle Street.
Rosanna heaved the door open and stepped onto the landing. She swayed for a moment, waiting, but Lord Richard remained deep in conversation with Miss Petunia.
She coughed.
Coughed again.
Elise tapped her aunt’s arm, and at the interruption, Lord Richard looked up.
He wore a sharp grey suit and a stiff top hat in the same shade. A lush blue cravat that matched his eyes and his waistcoat. He stroked his thick sideburns, the same shade as his strawberry blonde hair, then nodded, as if convincing himself of a thought he’d had, but up until now was uncertain of.
Perfect. Everything would be perfect. She was going to be a lady.
‘Miss Hempel.’ Lord Richard removed his hat before replacing it on his immaculate mop of hair. ‘Are you disposed to take a turn about the park?’
Chapter Five
Of all the cities Phineas had visited, travelled to, and moved through in a blur of dark corridors and scuffled conversations, London was by far the one he detested most. The fog that suffocated the buildings. The pompous pretentiousness. The swarming hordes that streamed in from the country, from the uppers to their genteel townhouses and the lowers to the slums. Both ends of the spectrum of life’s lottery clogged the streets with filth and congestion all the same.
He couldn’t wait to leave.
And yet this morning, when he’d planned to send a note to the office to begin his steady extraction, he had hesitated. He’d eaten jam and toast under Felix’s slightly perturbed expression. While Spencer the cat finished lapping his morning saucer of milk, Phineas had donned his hat, tucked his umbrella under his arm, and set off to the bank the same as he did every working day.
In the subterranean office at the bank, Taylor had barely raised an eyebrow at his arrival. Over the course of the day, Phineas had inspected the ledger again, but he still couldn’t find anything amiss. Later that afternoon, he’d slipped into the officeof one of the more senior clerks and pulled the folio for Lord Richard’s accounts. All had seemed healthy until…
