“Thank you for a wonderful afternoon, Mr. Gibbs. It has been most enlightening.”
Anthony wanted to say something more. He wanted to leap to his feet and reach out and stop her. Clearly the interaction with Miss Starling and what it suggested had put her off. She was retreating from him and while he longed to explain his relationship with Miss Starling, he worried he might be leaping to the wrong conclusion.
For what if Miss Quinn’s hasty departure had nothing to do with Miss Starling and everything to do with her obligation toward her uncle? She had made it clear that she could not stay out too long. So if he began explaining himself and what his relationship with Miss Starling entailed, she might believe him to be too forward.
By chasing after Miss Quinn and assuring her Miss Starling meant nothing to him, he would practically be declaring himself. And for what? In what sort of world could a duke find his happily ever after with a shopkeeper’s niece who lacked connections?
“We’re still waiting for an explanation,” Brody said, disrupting Anthony’s thoughts. “You cannot possibly mean to tell us that you’re engaged to Miss Starling.”
“I’m not,” Anthony said. “It’s complicated with her.”
“No more so than it is with Miss Quinn, I’ll wager,” Callum murmured. “She’s lovely, by the way, and the two of you seem to get along famously.”
His friend was spot on, but the situation was more than what he described. With Miss Quinn, Anthony felt relaxed and comfortable. Being with her was like being with someone he’d not even known he’d been missing. It was magical and it scared the living hell out of him.
9
There was no point in dissecting the conversation between Mr. Gibbs and Miss Starling, Ada decided. The situation was clear. They were engaged. To be married. All that remained was for him to sign the blasted contract. Which he would do. Because why on earth wouldn’t he?
Miss Starling would make him a marvelous match. She was pretty, perfectly poised, and elegant in a way Ada could never hope to be. Most important of all, she was a somebody. Ada wasn’t entirely sure what sort of somebody the lady was, but pedigree had wafted off her like a heavy perfume. It had been impossible to ignore, considering her fine gown, exquisite bonnet, diamond encrusted brooch, expensive parasol, and perfectly styled hair.
Ugh!
Ada dropped her head onto the work table and muttered a very unladylike curse.
Of course the one man she happened to meet and like and possibly—or rather definitely—dream about one day marrying would be firmly attached to another. It was just the sort of disastrous outcome she’d have expected if she were the heroine of her own novel. Except in that novel she’d somehow end up gloriously happy in the end. Reality, however, promised a far more dismal outcome.
She straightened and returned her attention to the distraction the encyclopedia offered. Each of the twenty volumes had now been beautifully bound. She was currently working on the spines, which she’d decided to complete before adding the title and volume number to the front cover.
Emily would be pleased. Ada was certain of it. The books comprised some of her best work to date and would be a handsome addition to Lord Rosemont’s library.
She filled the next tray with letters and numbers, clamped the book into place, and pressed the heated stamp onto volume three’s spine.
“This just arrived for you,” Uncle James said, entering her work space before she managed to add the gold leaf. He held a white envelope toward her.
Ada stared at it for a brief second before setting her tools aside and accepting the missive. The lettering on the front was unfamiliar to her. It didn’t look like Mr. Gibbs’s and yet the stationary was quality. She glanced at her uncle. “Any idea who it’s from?”
“None. It was hand delivered by courier, but I’ll wager you might find out if you open it and read the contents.”
She grabbed a sharp knife and broke the glossy red seal, then retrieved the thick card that had been tucked inside the envelope. Puzzled, she turned it over, unable to fathom what it was or that it had been sent to her.
“It’s an invitation,” she muttered. “To the Marquess of Axelby’s ball, two weeks from today.”
“Really?” Uncle James took the card from her and read it himself.
She shook her head. “It must be some sort of mistake.”
“A curious one, considering both of our names are on it.”
Baffled, Ada peered at the card Uncle James was holding. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Things don’t always have to.” Uncle James handed the invitation back to her. “But in this instance I’d hazard a guess that your Mr. Gibbs might be involved.”
“First of all, he’s not my Mr. Gibbs.” If anything, he was Miss Starling’s. “And second of all, I cannot believe he’d do so without informing us first.”
“I’m no expert in such things, Ada, but I don’t believe it’s common practice to warn people about invitations they might be receiving.”
“Perhaps not.” She set the invitation aside. “We obviously can’t go.”
