Seth stopped in front of a stationer’s shop.
“Is there something you need?” she asked.
“Yes,” he answered then held the door so that they could enter. He then took his time inspecting not only the paper options but also the ink before he chose what he wished to purchase and then asked that it be delivered to The Emerald Garter.
“I had forgotten that I was low on ink.” He chuckled.
“What of writing implements?” she asked. “How else will you transfer the ink to the paper?”
“I have quills aplenty,” he answered. “When I was younger, I often lost quills and would purchase new, then find the old, and thus the pattern continued until I was packing up all my belongings to move to London and discovered missing quills everywhere and gathered them in a box, where most of them still remain. The box sits on a shelf in my office and I have not had to purchase a new quill since I opened The Emerald Garter.”
“You will likely find nearly a dozen on your desk at your home, if you ever decide to review the documents stacked upon it.” She still could not believe the disarray, especially the unopened missives. How could he not want to know what they contained?
“If you would like, I invite you to organize my desk.”
Frances pulled back in surprise. “That is far too personal an endeavor for me. I am certain there are documents that you would like to remain private.”
Seth stopped and turned to face her. “I keep no secrets from you, Franny, and will happily tell you anything that you wish to know.”
Goodness, she had not expected such a declaration or such intensity in his blue eyes.
“I also hope that one day, there are no secrets between us.” He reached forward and clasped her hand. “I want to know everything that I missed in the five years we were apart.”
Her heart pounded against her sternum and Frances swallowed past the lump in her throat. She wanted to tell him everything, just as they had shared everything that happened while they were apart when they still visited in the cottage. But that was before he rejected her love and friendship.
Seth did not deserve her secrets, but she longed to tell him everything and unburden her concerns, just as she had once done, and return to the happiest she had ever been.
“I…um…” What did she say?
“Lord Seth Claxton and Miss Hawthorn, I am so happy that I have encountered you.”
As if broken from a spell, Frances blinked and turned to find Lady Perrington bearing down on them.
“I do hope that you will both attend,” she gushed.
Frances shifted her eyes to Seth, not certain to what Lady Perrington referred. She barely knew the woman. In fact, Frances had not spoken to her since she had first come to London and before she was relegated to her place among the wallflowers.
“Attend what?” Seth asked.
“My ball, of course. To be held on Tuesday.”
“I do not recall receiving such an invitation,” Seth answered.
It was likely in one of the stacks on his desk, but Frances held her tongue. Besides being a hostess of many entertainments, Lady Perrington was a gossip and Frances didn’t want the woman to know that she was familiar with Seth’s desk, located in his home.
“I did not receive one either,” Frances offered.
Lady Perrington frowned. “I was assured they were delivered to your homes.”
If it had been to her Mayfair home, then it was likely sitting on a tray near the entry, where the small staff would have set it. Perhaps she should visit her former home to make certain there was no other correspondence waiting for her there, though they knew where to send any missives received.
“It does not matter,” Lady Perrington dismissed with a wave of her hand. “I am hosting a ball on Tuesday and expect both of you to be in attendance.”
“I will see if I can arrange my schedule,” Seth offered.
Did he not want to attend?
Of course, he likely did not. He rarely went into Society.
