A Rogue No More - Lana Williams Page 0,15
you.”
“My pleasure. Perhaps it will catch the eye of someone special.”
Funny that Thomas Raybourne immediately came to mind. “I think I’ll stay focused on my writing for now.” Annabelle hadn’t told anyone of her intention to avoid marriage as she knew none of her family would support it.
“As special as you are, I doubt that will be possible for long.” Margaret smiled. “A handsome man will ask you to dance then steal your heart.”
That was the last thing Annabelle wanted. She’d seen the unfortunate effects love could have on a woman’s independence. But she wasn’t ready to tell anyone, not even Margaret, how she felt.
“I can’t wait to see what you design next.”
Margaret clapped her hands in excitement. “I already have another gown sketched out for you, but I want to surprise you with it. How is the writing coming along?”
“Quite well. The next book is nearly finished.”
“I think it’s cruel of you to make us wait to read it.” Margaret’s scowl only made Annabelle smile.
“It’s not so different from you preferring not to show us your design until it’s complete.”
“I suppose not. Very well. I will leave you to your work so you’ll finish sooner, and therefore we can read it sooner.”
“Thank you again. You have such a gift.”
As Margaret closed the door, leaving her in peace, Annabelle returned to the bed to study the gown. It truly was beautiful. One of the most elegant she’d ever had. Butterflies flooded her at the thought of wearing it and dancing with Thomas again.
How was she going to keep her feelings for him professional when they also met socially? She released a frustrated breath as she admitted the truth. If he smiled at her she nearly forgot her name, let alone any book matter she wished to discuss. Luckily for her, he rarely attended balls anymore. Surely she wouldn’t run into him often, which would help her to keep her attraction to him locked away.
With a sigh, she returned to her desk. She started with The Times, reading the articles that caught her attention. The report of a murder immediately drew her eye. She quickly read the article only to read it again more slowly, her heart pounding.
Though the description was rather vague, she couldn’t help but notice how closely it matched the first murder in her first published book, A Murder Most Unusual. She pulled the volume from her drawer and paged to the chapter where the protagonist discovered the body. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she compared the two. She rose to pace the room, wondering if it was as close as she thought. There was only one person she wanted to speak to about this—Thomas.
She folded the broadsheet and tucked it under the book then reached for the bell pull in the corner of her room. By the time she changed, thought of an excuse for the outing to tell her mother, and ordered a hackney, over an hour had passed.
Yet the notion that this was somehow related to her book wouldn’t let go. By the time she reached the office of Artemis Press, she was convinced of it.
Mr. Bing was at his usual post and quickly rose, nearly tipping over his chair in the process when she and Lizzie entered the reception area. “Miss Gold.”
“I hope the day finds you well, Mr. Bing.” She glanced about, realizing the area had been much improved with new chairs and a table neatly arranged to one side. An attractive vase graced the table, though it stood empty. Apparently, Thomas’s assistant had been busy. “I’d like to see Mr. Raybourne, please.”
Before the young man could respond, the inner office door opened to reveal Thomas who stared at a paper he held. Something inside her loosened at the sight of him. As if somewhere deep inside, she was relieved she didn’t have to deal with this problem on her own.
“Bing, do you have—” He looked up only to stop short at the sight of her. “Miss Gold.”
“May I have a word with you?”
“Of course.” He gestured toward his office and stood aside to allow her entrance.
“Thank you.”
“What’s on your mind?” he asked as he waited for her to sit before doing the same.
She pulled the article from her reticule and slid it across his desk. “Have you read this?”
He drew it toward him. “Yes.”
“Did anything about it strike you as familiar?”
He hesitated, his expression tightening as if he were reluctant to answer.
“It did!” A quick