As Revelstoke completed the transaction with the merchant, Rosie murmured, “You didn’t have to do that, Pols.”
“I know I didn’thaveto.” Polly linked arms with her, their gowns swishing as they strolled on together. “But recall how whenever you went shopping, you always bought something for me too. I’m returning the favor.”
“Back then Ihadto buy you things. For reasons I’ll never comprehend, you chose charitable work with foundlings over shopping. But now look at you,” Rosie said fondly. “You’re a veritable fashion plate.”
“I still prefer the foundlings,” Polly admitted. “Sinjin chooses my wardrobe for me.”
“No doubt he knows your measurements by heart.”
“Rosie.”
Rosie laughed. “Oh, don’t look so scandalized. Save it for when I tell you my good news about Daltry. Speaking of which—I’d best get on to the conservatory to meet him.”
“At least let me accompany you—”
“I need privacy. But don’t worry: Daltry and I are meeting in the section at the back where hardly anyone goes. And if anyone sees us, I’ll pretend I lost you in the crowd, and Daltry was escorting me back to you.”
Polly chewed on her lip. “If I don’t see you back here inexactlyfifteen minutes, I’m going to the conservatory to look for you.”
“All right, mother hen.” Rosie winked. “Wish me luck.”
~~~
Rosie arrived at the conservatory a tad breathless. A new shipment of tea had arrived from China, and she’d had to make her way through a throng vying to get a sample of the fashionable brew. As a result, it was a few minutes past the appointed meeting time, and she saw that a uniformed man was cordoning off the entryway, shooing away would-be visitors.
“Oh dear,” she said in dismay, “the conservatory isn’t closed, is it?”
The man touched his hand to his cap, bowing. “For cleaning, miss.”
Botheration.Had Daltry come and gone already? Should she wait here or go look for him…
“Beg pardon, but you wouldn’t happen to be Miss Kent?”
She looked at the guard in surprise. “I am indeed.”
“You’re expected, miss.” He untied the rope, granting her access. “In the rotunda at the back.”
“Thank you.” Flashing the man a relieved smile, she made her way in.
She’d never been inside the conservatory while it was empty, and, as she hurried through the long hall, she felt as if she were inside an enchanted garden. The greenhouse walls were composed of glass panes held together by a delicate grid of ironwork. Flowering vines climbed toward the vaulted ceiling, and a stone fountain gurgled merrily as she passed.
Here, she would have the privacy she needed to negotiate the future with Daltry, and things were working out even better than she planned… so why was she feeling uneasy? Why did she have a sudden impulse to turn around and run?
This is what you want. Don’t lose your starch now.
She reached the end of the corridor, which opened into a rotunda shrouded with greenery. Citrus and gardenia perfumed the humid air, and she followed the maze-like path created by the tall potted plants toward the hidden heart of the room. At her arrival, she stopped short: an all-too-familiar tall, broad-shouldered figure was standing next to a basin filled with darting fish.
“Dash it all,” she blurted. “What areyoudoing here?”
“I might ask you the same thing, Miss Kent,” the stranger replied.
But he wasn’t a stranger, was he? she fumed. This man was the same bounder who’d ruined her plans the last time! To her further annoyance, he looked even more attractive unmasked and in the daylight. Beneath the brim of his elegant hat, his hair gleamed like polished bronze.
His features were the sort that ought to be immortalized in marble: straight, strong, classically male. She saw that he was a tad older than she’d first assumed—in his mid-thirties, most likely. The fine lines around his eyes and mouth saved him from bland perfection and enhanced his aura of sensual experience.
And his eyes… the light revealed that they were a rich brown. Dark as chocolate and disturbingly knowing. As he bowed, she noted that his tailoring was undoubtedly superb, the azure double-breasted tailcoat, tan waistcoat, and buff trousers showcasing his long, sinewy form. His tall black boots, banded by brown leather at the top, hugged his muscular calves.
Stop gawking and gather your wits, you ninny.
