One Night In London by Linden Caroline

Author:Linden, Caroline [Linden, Caroline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780062025326
Publisher: Avon
Published: 2011-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

After four drafts Francesca managed to compose a note the next morning to Lord Edward, apologizing for her actions. She didn’t specify which actions, so when his reply came, she had to take a deep breath before opening it. But he said nothing of kisses or offense; he accepted her apology and tendered one of his own for scolding her so harshly. Then he asked if she would like to attend another gallery the next day.

Francesca let out her breath in relief. Thank heavens. She honestly hadn’t known what to expect. He had flirted with her, very mildly, and most definitely kissed her back, but that didn’t mean anything. Her heart leaping, she replied in the affirmative. It was a great consolation that he was still willing to help her. She had learned her lesson and wouldn’t do anything inappropriate again.

That week she saw him every day. He took her to galleries open to the public, and private collections whose owners only admitted friends and acquaintances. They visited art dealers and the Royal Academy. She learned more about the art world than she had ever cared to know, but none of it was directly helpful. No one could—or would—tell them where Percival Watts was, or where he was likely to be found. The few people who knew anything of him professed that he had drifted out of his usual haunts over the last few months, and then disappeared entirely a few weeks ago. Coupled with the investigator’s lack of progress tracing Ellen Haywood and Georgina herself, it was very lowering for Francesca’s spirits.

But Edward was undaunted. He seemed far too calm to her increasingly frustrated eyes, but soon she grew to depend on that. Because of his unshakable confidence, she was able to keep herself in check. He was certain this would yield results, and she had promised to trust him. His assurance soothed her impatience, as much as it could be soothed.

“I can’t stand this,” she said as they left a gallery in Pall Mall. “I don’t think we’ll ever find him this way.”

He helped her up into his curricle. “Perhaps not.” He retained hold of her hand until she looked at him. “Would you prefer to sit quietly at home and wait for Jackson?”

She pulled her hand free. “No, but what do you mean, it may not?”

“It may not. Jackson may be the one to find her. I notify him of every trace we uncover of Mr. Watts, and it may be one of those scraps of information—seemingly useless and outdated when we learn it—that eventually leads us to your niece.” He took the reins and jumped up beside her.

“Perhaps,” she grumbled. “I do wish it wouldn’t take so bloody long, though!”

He just smiled, and curled his fingers around her hand, resting on her lap, as he set the horses in motion. Francesca felt the tips of his fingers brush her thigh, and then the weight and size of his hand resting on her leg. Before she could stop it, a vivid memory of that kiss flashed through her mind, followed by more.

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