Trusting Miss Trentham by Emily Larkin

Author:Emily Larkin
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Emily Larkin
Published: 2017-01-08T18:00:00+00:00

* * *

TWO WAITERS LAID a substantial repast on the table—Icarus counted seven different dishes—and departed. “Did you have any luck finding Houghton?” Miss Trentham asked, unfolding her napkin.

“No. You?”

She shook her head.

They ate in near-silence. Icarus was aware of a self-conscious awkwardness between them. She’d admitted she wanted to kiss him. He’d admitted he wanted to kiss her. Where do we go from here? He served himself at random. It wasn’t until he’d finished, that he realized how much he’d eaten. He looked at his empty plate with astonishment.

“Would you like some ratafia pudding?” Miss Trentham asked.

Icarus glanced at the pudding, opened his mouth to say No, and realized it was a lie. “A very little.”

The ratafia pudding was extremely tasty. Icarus ate more than a little. Finally, he forced himself to put down his spoon and push his bowl away.

Without the business of eating and the faint clatter of cutlery, his awareness of Miss Trentham increased. Annoyingly, so did his self-consciousness. He was thirty, for crying out loud. Well past the age of self-consciousness.

Icarus reached into his pocket, took out the sketched map, unfolded it, and laid it on the table. “I went to these four,” he said, matter-of-fact and businesslike. “And you visited all five on that list?”

Miss Trentham nodded.

“Which leaves us with four more. Plus any the landlord forgot.”

“Then we should find Houghton tomorrow.”

“With luck.” Icarus studied the map for a moment, then glanced at her. “Do you wish to accompany me tomorrow, or wait until we know which parish he’s in?”

“What would you prefer?”

Icarus hesitated, and wished that Miss Trentham’s ear for falsehoods wasn’t quite so infallible. “I would be glad of your company,” he admitted.

Miss Trentham looked down at the table. Perhaps it was the candlelight, but he thought that faint color rose in her cheeks. “Will it be safe?”

“With me? Yes. And if for some reason I think it’s not, I’ll bring you back here immediately. You have my word on that.”

Miss Trentham bit her lip, and glanced at him. “Then I shall accompany you.”

“Good.” Icarus refolded the map and placed it back in his pocket. That business sorted, the rest of the evening loomed before him. What did Miss Trentham expect of him?

Nothing, it appeared. She was pushing back her chair and bidding him good night.

Icarus stood politely. “Good night.” He watched Miss Trentham leave the parlor with a strong sense of relief—and a faint pang of opportunity lost.

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