toward Mr. Raybourne, hoping to hear what he was saying. She intended to have a word with the man before he ruined everything.
~*~
Thomas had managed to raise the topic of A Most Unusual Murder in three different conversations thus far this evening in between discussing the war, which everyone had an opinion on. The idea of mentioning the book to those with both money and the time to read seemed like a fine idea. As far as he was concerned, every sale mattered. And if those interested in reading the book requested it from the lending library, that was fine as well. It still meant additional interest and sales.
He found attending balls somewhat tedious but doing so provided a simple way to have conversations with friends and acquaintances he didn’t always see. The people he encountered at gaming hells weren’t the sort who read.
“I think you’ll enjoy the story,” he continued to Baron Bennington. “It thoroughly kept my interest.”
“I will order a copy. Perhaps my wife would enjoy it as well.”
“I think she would.” He knew women, in general, spent more time reading than men though this book might be a darker tale than females normally preferred. However, if Bennington shared the book with his wife and she enjoyed it, chances were she’d tell her friends. Now he only needed to repeat this process a hundred more times.
The thought was daunting, but he was determined to spread the word about the book in every manner he could think of. Besides, he wasn’t the only one speaking of A. Golden’s work. Miss Gold had already caught the attention of many with a serial she wrote for the broadsheet. Each week, a chapter was published in an ongoing mystery for readers to enjoy. Though unrelated to her book, it was a major advert for her book. If only there was a better way to connect the two.
His biggest concern was now that he knew her identity, each time he thought or talked about the book, an image of Annabelle filled his thoughts. He didn’t care for the reminder of her in the least. And he worried he might mistakenly reveal her true identity.
He’d managed to put her firmly out of his mind since the heated kiss they’d shared some months ago. That was, until her arrival in his office. He blamed his reaction to the kiss on the drink he’d had that night, even if a small voice in his mind suggested that wasn’t the case. Drinking had come later, after the unexpected kiss.
He appreciated the self-preservation that kept him from seeking out the lady again to further experiment with the physical reaction they’d experienced. He was certain she’d felt it as well. Yet every bone in his body suggested becoming involved with Annabelle Gold would be unwise.
Hence his shock heavily layered with concern at the realization that she was A. Golden. He need only remember to never mix business with pleasure. How difficult could that be?
A strange prickling on the back of his neck had him slowly turning to discover the cause.
Annabelle Gold stood a short distance away, casting him a glare he couldn’t miss. He could only surmise she’d overheard him talking about her and didn’t like it. A smile came to his lips when he realized there wasn’t a thing she could do about it without admitting she was A. Golden, something he was certain she’d never do. Why did he enjoy riling her so?
On second thought, he didn’t want to know the answer to that.
Her lips pressed tight in disapproval at his smile, and she turned her back to him.
Damn if he didn’t take that as a challenge.
He excused himself from Baron Bennington and moved to Annabelle’s side. “Good evening, Miss Gold.”
She dipped her head to acknowledge his greeting but said nothing to encourage him. His presence often garnered that same reaction from young ladies. His reputation as a rogue was well known.
Yet he couldn’t resist pressing her. “May I have the honor of a dance?”
She hesitated rather than giving an immediate refusal as he’d thought she would. She truly was a delight. He wanted to know how her mind worked, especially now that he knew she’d written the book. What was she thinking at this very moment?
He waited, holding his breath, torn between hoping she’d agree and hoping she refused. Something deep inside him recognized that she threatened the fragile grip he had on his self-preservation.
With a graceful dip of her head, she agreed.
Thomas offered his elbow