“What story? Who is Charlotte?”
“She is no one of consequence,” a deep voice said from behind her.
Rockwell. “You’re back early,” she said gaily, trying to hide the fact they’d been talking about him. “I’ve selected the material, but they need to do my measurements yet. Why don’t you come back in half an hour?”
He looked at Fiona, who seemed to have shrunk under his gaze. “That’s all right. I’ll wait. Then he sat on the chair near the window.
Orla looked at the two women. She clicked her fingers. “Refreshments for Lord Ware. Come, Lady Ashley. Behind the screen you go and we will get your measurements and soon have your garments in hand.”
Fiona gathered her things. “And I must dash. Orla, can you deliver my gown by Friday? I’m happy to wait longer if Lady Ashley’s order needs to take priority.”
“Of course, Mrs. Ahearn.”
“Oh, that’s too kind,” Farah added.
“Then I bid you good day.” Mrs. Ahearn hugged Farah. “I wish you luck on your hunt. But remember what I said.” Thenshe whispered in Farah’s ear. “Your brother may need a shoulder to cry on when he realizes his friend is dead.”
Before Fiona left, Farah called, “Oh, but you will dine with us tonight?”
Fiona looked at Rockwell’s face and shook her head. “Another time perhaps.”
Farah bit her lip as she looked into Rockwell’s stony eyes. He was angry. Really angry. He didn’t like that she had learned about his fiancée. What did that mean? Who was she? Where had they met? Did his heart still belong to her?
Most of all, it made her think Rockwell knew how to love. It was likely the problem was that he didn’t want to.
Rockwell didn’t utter a word while her measurements were taken, and the tension in the room could be cut with a sword. Even when she was ready to leave, he still said nothing. The rain had stopped, but a blustery, cold wind blew as they hailed the hackney.
She settled into the carriage and couldn’t bear the silence. “Did you find out anything important?”
He turned to stare at her. “You will never bring up the name Charlotte in my hearing or mention her name to any of my friends and family. Is that clear?”
She swallowed. “If that is your wish, then I promise.”
He merely nodded and then he carried on talking as if nothing strange had occurred. “I think we have a valid lead. The gentleman’s club revealed they think a man who looked a lot like Lucien left with a young lady named Ava who worked at the brothel. They went to her village, a place called Malahide.”
She leaned forward, and a smile broke over her face. “But that’s the same village the grain merchant spoke about.” She clapped her hands in glee. “We are close. I can feel it. When do we leave?”
She looked so beautiful in her excitement. But he’d been shocked to hear the questions about his fiancée cross her lips. Charlotte was his ghost, his pain, and not one he wished to share. He didn’t want anyone to know.
Trust Farah to uncover his darkest secrets. She was worming her way into his life and he couldn’t stop her. It was as if she were peeling back all his layers and he didn’t like it. He didn’t want to let a woman into his life again. He was better off as a loner. A man with a woman in every port. He ran his hand over his face.
He didn’t want to take her to Malahide, but he couldn’t leave her here. What more would Fiona tell her? “If it doesn’t rain overnight, we’ll leave soon.”
“I guess I’ll be fine with what I have on for a few days in a small village. I won’t need anything expensive in Malahide. And my new clothes will be waiting when I return—with Lucien.”
He sighed. “Has it never occurred to you that if Lucien is living with this woman in Malahide, he may not wish to return with us? He has lived here for over five years, letting no one know that he’s even alive. He must have a good reason.”
The light in Farah’s eyes dimmed. She slumped back against the squab. “There must be a reason. I won’t think ill of him. Courtney has been pining for him all this time. Surely she couldn’t have been so wrong about the depth of his affections.”
Rockwell would have said his friend would never have hurt Lady Courtney. If he said he loved her, he did. But now, he doubted everything he knew about his friend. Why hadn’t he returned to England? A part of him thought that he just might punch him if he found Furoe alive. Lucien had let him think he was dead. Dead! For five years.
“If we find him tomorrow, we’ll have our answers.”
When they arrived at the inn, he helped her out. “You go up to our suite. I’ll organize the carriage hire and whatever else we need for tomorrow.”
She bit her lip and he wanted to kiss her so much it was like a constant ache deep in his balls. What was it about this pixie woman that stirred him so?
She finally said, “I’m sorry if what Fiona told me was a secret, but I didn’t purposely—”
