After finishing the conversation, Gabriel thanked Clancy and made his way to the tearoom and assessed his surroundings. The tables had been cleared to the side, and Bauer stood prominently in the room’s center.
Gabriel had seen him a couple of times in passing, but this was the first he’d seen him in the role of phrenologist. Above-average height. Black hair with gray streaks at the temples. Dark eyes. A crowd was gathered around him—mostly women. He didn’t recognize anyone from the Natural Philosophers Society, and Clancy had mentioned that Richard Hawthorne was present. Gabriel turned to go find him, but as he did a woman caught his eye.
Miss Wilde.
How was she not the focus of everyone in the room? Her golden hair, which was swept up in an elegant chignon, glistened in the candlelight, and even from this distance her eyes boasted an entrancing blue hue.
She shifted, and in the flickering light of the low-hanging candle lamps, their eyes met.
He dipped his head in acknowledgment and held his breath.
A slight smile dimpled her cheek.
At this, his pulse raced. She’d recognized him. He didn’t know if she’d received his letter, but it didn’t matter now. She was here . . . and he had to find a way to speak with her before the night’s end.
Chapter 7
AS SOON ASPhoebe was distracted and Miss Nolting was nowhere to be seen, Ella stepped out of the tearoom into the shadowed corridor. If there was one thing more bizarre than her encounter with Mr. Bauer, it was seeing Gabriel Rowe.
Was his presence here a coincidence? Had he been looking for her?
She pressed her way through the ever-increasing throng of people toward the ballroom. The gathering heat, smoky haze from the candles, and dizzyingly loud voices were disorienting, and most of the other people present were taller than her, which made it difficult to see. With seemingly every man clad in a dark coat and buff trousers, how was she to find him?
She stepped back to allow a cluster of gentlemen to pass before identifying a small open path toward one of the ballroom’s entrances. She scurried through the narrow opening and emerged into the ballroom, where dozens of dancers ebbed and flowed with the spirited music. She spied Mr. Rowe against the far wall and under the overhang for the minstrels’ gallery.
Lifting the hem of her gown, she inched around another group.With each step Ella reminded herself that she was acquainted with Mr. Rowe. It was not inappropriate to approach him. Was it?
He looked exactly like she remembered, and yet nothing like it. He had the same dark umber hair that curled just above his coat’s high collar. Well-kept side-whiskers framed his square jaw. Every feature—his straight nose, the slight cleft of his chin—all seemed sharper and much more defined than the boyish visage she recalled. No longer was he lanky, but he now appeared athletic and strong, and he stood at least a head taller than her. Ella had always thought him pleasing to look at, with an easy, affecting smile and an approachable countenance, but time had enhanced his charm. In fact, he was handsome. Incredibly so.
Which made approaching him even more difficult.
Gathering every ounce of courage, she stepped into his line of sight. Their eyes met once again. He straightened. She ignored the flutter in her chest at his charismatic grin, for this was not a social conversation. He had information for her, nothing more.
Neither spoke as she joined him under the minstrels’ gallery overhang. “I thought that was you, Mr. Rowe.”
He bowed. “I had no doubt that it was you, Miss Wilde.”
She moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with him and watched the dancers. Ella was rarely nervous or flustered, yet she struggled to focus her thoughts. Normally she prided herself on presenting a stoic, composed demeanor, but his nearness, combined with the emotions Mr. Bauer’s presence had unearthed, affected her.
She maintained a steady tone. “I suppose it’s fair to say that I have wondered, from time to time, what happened to you after you left the school.”
“And?” He raised his dark eyebrows and looked slightly over at her. “Did you ever think you would see me at the Clancy Assembly Rooms while observing a phrenologist?”
She could not help but laugh at the odd example. “Surprisingly enough, no. That’s not what I thought at all. I’m glad I did encounter you, though, for I did receive a very unusual letter from you.”
“Ah yes.” His posture relaxed slightly. “I wondered if you received it.”
“I never responded to it, which now I realize could be considered rude. I am curious about what you have to say, but I don’t think here is the proper time or place for such a discussion.”
“I’ll be at my office tomorrow afternoon if you’d like to join me there.”
His unhesitating tone boasted confidence, but the thought of meeting him in private incited the odd flutter in her chest yet again. She was about to respond when she saw Phoebe standing on the tips of her toes across the room, no doubt looking for her.
Mr. Rowe saw her too. “Your friend is looking for you.”
“Indeed, I think she is.”
Phoebe took notice of her and headed in her direction. Once she arrived, she curtsied. “There you are! And Mr. Rowe. What a surprise.”
