Page 82 of The Language of Love

“I have known who you are for some time, my lord.”

“How?”

“An acquaintance recognized your resemblance to your late grandfather.”

Henry had seen portraits of his paternal grandfather when he’d lived at Stoke. The resemblance had always astounded him.

“When?” he finally asked.

“Weeks ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I am not entirely sure,” she confessed, sounding bemused. “Why did you do it, my lord?”

“Partly a whim and partly to get a look at the ton from a different angle. By paying Parker to be me, I could observe without being observed.”

“That is almost word-for-word what Miss Annis Bowman said when I told her who you really were.”

Her words made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, like an electrical charge from a storm. “I’m sorry—but… what?”

“I aired my suspicions about you to Annis—don’t worry, she is discreet and will tell no one—and she said almost exactly the same thing you just did.” Lady Sedgwick frowned when Henry remained mute. “Is something wrong, my lord?”

“Who else knows about me?”

“Only Miss Bowman and the Earl of Avington.”

Annis knew.

Annis knew.

“—soon, my lord? My lord?”

Henry’s head jerked up. “I’m sorry, I missed that, my lady.”

“I asked if you were now planning to let the truth be known?”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” he said distractedly.

“Is something wrong, Lord Rotherhithe?”

“No, I’m sorry. I just recalled something I’d forgotten.”

“Do you need to leave?”

“Not right now.” He cleared his throat. “In fact, I hoped you weren’t too angry with me to take on another commission.”

She laughed softly.

“I know,” he said, although she’d not spoken. “I don’t deserve your help, but—”

“It’s not help if you are paying me,” she pointed out.

He couldn’t help smiling at that. “No, you’re correct. If you’re willing, I’d like to engage you to help me get through the next week.”

She opened her mouth and then hesitated.

“What is it, my lady?”