Page 44 of Rakes & Reticules
Fletcher lost track of how long he stood there, head bowed, and fingers curled against his thighs as he ruminated on her prudence-driven rejection and why it stung so fiercely. When he finally lifted his head, it was with renewed purpose and determination.
From this point forward, he could treat Siobhan like any other female employee, which meant she was off limits, or he could trust his instinct, which fairly shouted he should pursue her with all diligence.
And he must make his decision before he saw her again.
CHAPTERTEN
Carriage ride from Gunter’s Tea Shop
Berkeley Square – Mayfair London
The next afternoon
Siobhan tried not to notice the many curious stares or shared whispers directed toward the elegant landau as Baldwin expertly guided the burgundy coach down a cobbled street. With Kimber sitting on one side of her and Paddy on the other, Siobhan pointed her attention to somewhere beyond Fletcher’s head.
The temperate July sun bathed the carriage occupants in pleasantly warm rays, from which her pink silk and ivory fringed parasol protected her complexion. As if suddenly wearing wide-ribbed bonnets and holding a sunshade would erase the smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose.
This is a fairytale outing in a fairytale carriage, she reminded herself.This is not my life or the children’s. Do not get caught up in the excitement and forget your humble origins, Siobhan Moya Neasa Kenney.
Kimber and Paddy thought it great fun to pretend to have a different surname to help Fletcher catch a criminal, but they were expressly forbidden to speak to strangers. Siobhan still held considerable doubts about whether it had been wise to be so straightforward with her siblings, but as Fletcher had pointed out, they weren’t toddlers.
“The chocolate ice was delicious, but I want to try pineapple next time.” Paddy grinned and bent forward to catch his sister’s eye. “What kind do you wish to taste next, Kimber?”
“Lemon,” Kimber answered without hesitation, a small smear of strawberry ice at the corner of her lip.
Siobhan quelched the worry that tried to rise at their innocent assumption that there would be a next time. “Let’s be grateful for the treats we enjoyed and not want more already.”
The children could not become accustomed to a life of privilege.
Even if Siobhan continued to work for Fletcher after the debacle with the Huxleys was resolved, her little family must live within their means, and visits to Gunter’s for ices could not be indulged with any regularity.
And yet, this was the happiest Siobhan had seen her brother and sister since their parents’ disappearance. Fletcher had told her he’d asked his cousin to look into the matter, but since Siobhan had no information to impart to him regarding where Da and Maura had gone or who they had seen, she had little hope he would be successful.
“What about you, Mr. Westbrook? Lord Darius?” Paddy's enthusiasm and broad grin proved catching.
“Oh, I always order bergamot.” Lord Darius winked. “I’ve tried all the flavors—coriander, cinnamon, violet, parmesan, and the rest, and nothing compares.”
“I disagree.” Fletcher turned his penetrating, verdant gaze on Siobhan. “I’m rather fond of vanilla.”
Which just so happened to be the flavor she and Fletcher had chosen.
A little thrill of delight tunneled through her blood.
A flush heating her cheeks, Siobhan glanced to the side. She immediately regretted it when two regal matrons in a passing carriage pointed at their landau, put their heads together, and spoke rapidly.
Fletcher didn’t appear the least concerned about the attention they drew as the vehicle rumbled over the cobblestones. Likely as a duke’s sons, he and Lord Darius had become accustomed to the rude gawking as if the Westbrooks should expect and accept people examining them in public like curious oddities on display at a museum, the circus, or a traveling show.
So accustomed to being invisible, Siobhan found it hard to keep her face impassive and feign indifference. She would never become accustomed to the scrutiny.
Thankfully, no one approached their carriage while they ate their ices beneath a maple tree’s welcome shade. Fletcher’s formidable frowns directed toward anyone who looked in their way might’ve accounted for that reprieve.
“Kimber darling, you have a bit of strawberry ice just here.” Siobhan pointed to her mouth.
Kimber darted her tongue out and dutifully licked the spot clean. “Better?”
“Much.” Siobhan patted her knee.
“Mr. Westbrook?” Kimber pumped her legs against the plum-colored seat.
