Page 109 of The Duke and the Lady in Red
“Not my goal.” Keeping her happy was.
When the coach came to a halt, Rose was surprised by the anticipation humming through her. As Avendale handed her down, she took a moment to glance around—
Trepidation sliced through her as she saw a man emerge from a hansom cab, but she kept her expression neutral, her smile soft. Not too big, not too small. Just right.
Give nothing away. Not to Avendale, not to the man, not to anyone passing by.
“There’s a bookshop nearby,” Avendale said. “I’ll browse through there for a while, be back in an hour for you. Will that be enough time?”
“It should be plenty.”
He turned for the coach.
“Avendale?”
He looked back at her.
“All you’ve done for me, for Harry, means everything to me.”You mean everything to me.But she couldn’t leave those words with him. He’d think they were a lie, and she didn’t want him thinking their final words of parting were a lie.
“Rose—”
“I know you don’t want my gratitude, but you have it all the same.” Rising up on her toes, she brushed a kiss over his lips. He couldn’t have looked more taken aback if she’d disrobed on the crowded street. She gave him a saucy smile. “I couldn’t resist. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Wishing she could have given him a more heartfelt and proper good-bye, she strolled into the shop and stood at the window until the coach disappeared from view. Knowing she would never see him again caused a harsh ache in the center of her chest. She turned to the proprietor. “Is there a back way out?”
The dark-haired woman arched a brow. “Trouble with your lover?”
So the woman had seen the kiss. Not that it mattered. Rose was never going to see her again. “A bit. Can you help me?”
“I shouldn’t. Avendale is a powerful man.”
“You know him?”
“He asked me to make a ball gown for a very small woman. He seems to have quite diverse tastes in women.”
Rose didn’t have time for this, for denying or confirming such an accusation. Glancing back out the window, she saw the man leaning against a lamppost studying his nails. Straightening her spine, she delivered her most formidable look. “I’m powerful as well. I’ll find my way.”
As she went through to the back, she ignored the women stitching away, the one woman being measured. The door came into sight. Without hesitation Rose went through it and into the alley. She hurried down it until she reached a street, turned—
And slammed into a brick wall. Arms banded around her and she dropped her head back to stare at a mouth curled up into an insidious smile.
“Well, if it ain’t Mrs. Pointer.”
“Mr. Tinsdale. I don’t suppose you’d unhand me?”
He unwound his beefy arms but his large hand immediately wrapped painfully around her wrist, not that she was about to give him satisfaction by crying out, but with the tiniest pressure he could snap her bone in two. “How did you know where to find me?”
“With your brother’s death, the others weren’t so careful with their comings and goings as they sought to comfort you and themselves. I even followed you all to the cemetery. Once I figured out where you were, I just had to bide my time until the big bloke weren’t around. You were living quite swell. But now you’re mine.”
As Avendale browsed the books, he realized that he didn’t know what sort of story Rose preferred. He would have liked to purchase her a book, but suspected most of her selections were based on her brother’s preferences. Better to go with jewelry. Something simple this time. A cameo. A brooch. A choker. A ring.
The possibilities tumbled through his mind as he left the shop and climbed into his coach. It hadn’t been quite an hour since he left Rose, but arriving early might provide the opportunity to catch a glimpse of what she wanted in a gown. He imagined it would be less revealing, a little more demure. She had no reason to distract him now.
Not that she could if she tried. He was on to her, knew her moods, her movements, her expressions. In the days following Harry’s death, an honesty had developed between them, a bond had strengthened. He’d never known anything like it. She could rely on him wholeheartedly. He wanted to be there for her—during the good times and the bad.
The coach drew to a halt and he leaped out as soon as the door was opened. He strode into the shop, surprised not to see Rose looking over fabric samples.
“Your Grace,” the proprietor said, with a small curtsy.
