Mr. Rowe bowed in response. “Miss Hawthorne. A pleasure.”
Phoebe smiled hastily before fluttering her jewel-encrusted silk fan and disrupting her glossy curls. “My, but it’s warm in here. I’ve been looking everywhere for you! When did you run off?”
“Oh, I didn’t run off. Like you said, it’s warm. I was merely in search of fresh air.”
“Well, I’m glad I’ve found you, for there is someone else you must meet. You will forgive me if I take her away from you, won’t you, Mr. Rowe?”
He smiled with an impressively unaffected manner. “Of course.”
Ella, optimistic to have connected with Mr. Rowe yet confused about Phoebe’s brusque attitude, allowed Phoebe to lead her from the area back to the tearoom.
Once they were out of Mr. Rowe’s earshot and had been absorbed by the crowd, Phoebe snipped, “What on earth were you doing talking with Gabriel Rowe?”
Surprised at the accusatory tone behind the question, Ella winced. “We were only talking. He was a student at the school, do you not remember?”
“Oh, I remember.” Phoebe’s tone harshened.
Ella frowned. “What does that mean?”
Phoebe’s normally nonchalant expression darkened into one quite annoyed, and she pressed her lips tight. “Mr. Rowe might be engaging, but do not be fooled. He is considered to have a dubious character. It is his profession. It would be best if you ignored him altogether.”
“I thought he was a solicitor,” Ella countered.
“He is a solicitor, but he—he’s more than that.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Mr. Rowe is involved with rabble who would make polite people uncomfortable. Clients pay him to track down criminals and apprehend them.”
Ella wrinkled her nose. “Do you mean a thieftaker?”
Disgusted, Phoebe shook her head. “I don’t know about all that, but he’s rumored to be associating with people that a gentleman should avoid.”
The warning rang like a bell, reverberating even as Ella triedto focus on other conversations. She’d wholly accepted that Mr. Rowe’s letter had been genuine and an earnest effort to be useful. But what if Phoebe was right? What if he did have other intentions?
The thought rambled noisily in the back of her mind the rest of the evening, but she would rather put her faith in a man she once knew as a lad instead of a man she knew had written false information about her mother. For Phoebe’s sake Ella dropped the subject, but as her thoughts cleared she was more determined than ever: She would visit Mr. Rowe’s office the next day and hear what he had to say.
Chapter 8
BY THE TIMEthe carriage arrived in front of Mr. Rowe’s office, Ella’s stomach was in knots—mostly due to Mrs. Chatterly’s palpable disapproval of their impending visit and Phoebe’s warning about Mr. Rowe’s reputation.
Ella should follow the advice of those around her, but it had never been her manner to do so. Instead, she relied on her own counsel to be curious and gather information before drawing conclusions.
The carriage rocked to a stop not far from the assembly rooms she had visited the prior evening, and the footman traveling with them opened the door.
Ella gathered her beaded reticule in her gloved hand, brushed a bit of dust from her pearl-gray wool traveling gown, and stepped from the solace of the carriage to the bustling cobblestone street. Refusing to be distracted, she turned her attention to the small, tidy building boasting a large bow window adorned with the wordsGabriel Rowe, Solicitorin elegant red letters.
As Ella and Mrs. Chatterly approached the door, it swung inward, revealing Mr. Rowe with a broad smile, as if he had beenwaiting. The afternoon sun fell on his tanned cheeks, and the breeze lifted his hair from his brow.
The very sight of him—his energy and his brightness—confirmed that she had made the right decision. How could it not be when he appeared so confident and enthusiastic?
What was more, he appeared much more casual today, more like the boy she remembered. Instead of the formal attire he had worn the previous night, a light brown, high-collared tailcoat emphasized his broad shoulders and drew attention to the tawny shade of his eyes. A sage-green waistcoat hugged his torso, and his linen cravat was far less intricately tied than the silk one he wore the previous evening.
She fidgeted with her reticule, finding it difficult not to be affected. “I’m sorry that we are here so late in the day.”
“No need to apolo—” He stopped abruptly and lifted his gaze behind Ella. “Is that Mrs. Chatterly?”
Ella turned, half expecting to see a frown of disapproval, but Mrs. Chatterly’s expression was congenial. She even smiled. “Mr. Rowe.”
He laughed and opened the door fully. “How wonderful it is to see you! I must say that this reunion, such as it is, has been good for my soul. Come in, please.”
Ella and Mrs. Chatterly followed him past two clerks seated at their desks and into a private office. Once they were inside the small room, he motioned for them to be seated in the two chairs opposite the desk.
