“You look even more lovely than I remembered. If that’s possible.”
“Thank you.” The words stuck in her throat. She would have forsaken any compliments for the rest of her life if he had only sent her a letter one, two, or even three years ago.
“I don’t suppose you want me to stop by your home and meet your family, now that I’m back.” Finn said it lightly, jesting with her, yet she had the distinct impression that her refusal when they first met still irked him.
Would his appearance on Mount Vernon Street be any better received now than when she’d married him?
No, it was a thousand times worse in the face of her engagement to William.
“I’ll meet you wherever you want,” she said, withdrawing her hand from his, “and then we’ll talk.” And figure out this impossible mess, she prayed silently.
A shadow crossed his face, shuttering his eyes. “Tomorrow then, at three o’clock, at Ober’s restaurant.”
Dine in public together? Impossible.
“I cannot—” she began.
“Trust me, Rose. I won’t do anything to jeopardize your reputation. Or your engagement,” he added before turning from her. “We’ll dine privately upstairs.”
She watched him walk away, frowning at his limp in an otherwise healthy looking body. What had happened to him?
