Page 41 of Unforeseen Affairs
“UndinePunch?”Colinhissedunder his breath. “Of all the names you could have—”
“What?” Miss Sedley—or Miss Punch, as she sought to be referred to as—stared at him blankly. “Does it not suit?”
It had been a week since their meeting in the storeroom of The Black Candle, where they’d sketched out their plan: Colin would fetch Miss Sedley from the shop in a hired cab, and they would arrive at the location in Bayswater together, where he would introduce her, using an alias, as a family friend. From there they would wait until the right moment, using silent signals between them in the dim light, to seize Mr. Bass—or, perhaps more likely, Mr. Trenwith—during an act of subterfuge. Then one of them would make for the lamps, turning them up so all those present could plainly see how Mr. Bass was deceiving them.
A sound strategy, Colin thought, considering the setting and its trappings.
ButUndine Punch? Colin raised a hand to his temple but, thankfully, there was no sign of pressure or tightness.
Yet.
Miss Sedley sat alongside him in the hired hack, looking very unlike herself. Colin had stumbled over his greeting to her, in fact, because he hadn’t expected her to look so… sunny. She wore a pale blue walking suit that very nicely complemented her black hair, which was set underneath a round-crowned hat turned at a fetching angle. She appeared a perfectly lovely young lady, ready for a holiday stroll upon the shore in Brighton.
Except, of course, for the hideous, masculine, omnipresent watch fob, still on its thick chain around her neck.
“But Punch,” he sputtered, “is the other…” He nearly cursed in frustration, but stilled his tongue. He drew in an exasperated breath. “It’s the Irish boot blacking! Not to mention themagazine. Are you mad, Miss Sedley?”
“Miss Punch,” she said serenely.
“Truly, you commit yourself to such folly?”
“You’ve said nothing of Undine. I thought you’d take umbrage at that, rather.”
“It could put the entire exercise in jeopardy,” he continued on, slipping into the manner of a stern, emotionless commander. “And for what? For some private joke, arising from a misguided turn of your imagination? To be clever?”
Even as the cab rattled and bounced, she remained still as a statue, watching him with those intense eyes. It recalled their last meeting, and the unnatural restlessness he’d felt under her scrutiny. Never before had anyone, least of all a young lady, so discomfited him.
“Very well. You may call me Undine, if you prefer. After all, we aresupposedlyvery close friends.”
Colin looked out the window, suddenly wishing very much that he’d figured out a way to restore Beaky’s reputation on his own.
“And you do refer to Miss Pearce so familiarly, do you not?”
He wanted to correct her, to claim he did no such thing. But that would be a lie. So he remained silent.
When he did not answer, she pressed him further.
“Do you think, then, Sir Colin, that my fictitious name will be the thread that unravels the whole undertaking?” She paused, like a leopard waiting to pounce. “Or will it be because you refused to practice our agreed-upon method of silent communication?”
He frowned.
Agreed-upon, yes, but reluctantly on his part. It was poor enough form that he’d been traipsing about London with a handsome, unmarried young lady from a well-off trade family, but to sit alongside her in the storeroom of a curiosity shop, just the two of them, touching their feet and legs to one another under the guise ofpractice?
Sir Colin was a gentleman; that was simply too much.
“Our hands will need to remain upon the table,” she reminded him. “Fingertips touching.”
“I’m well-versed in spirit circle procedure now, thank you,” he said, a bit short.
He did not want to think about touching her. His dreams, unfortunately, had been far too focused on that subject as of late. But this was waking life, where Colin could still control himself. Or so he prayed.
For none of this was about the mysterious Miss Sedley, or even Colin himself.
It was for Beaky, his best friend. For the future happiness of two families, the Gearings and the Pearces. And for Alice. But just now, the thought of Miss Pearce fell somewhat flat, like taking a bite of treacle tart after sipping lemonade. His lack of emotion about Alice surprised and discouraged Colin, and in an attempt to set his mind right, he kept thinking about her, imagining her at her prettiest, her sweetest.
The carriage slowed, and Colin came up from his mental exercise, alarmed.
“Are we stopping?”
