A sad sigh left his lips. “Mothers are infinitely wise, are they not?”
In the grave silence that followed, she could feel his pain. He must have spent his life wondering what his mother might look like, dreaming about the wealt
h of love she would have in her heart, feeling the crippling ache of her absence.
“Come, Mr Sloane. If we’re to marry, we must prove to Mr Golding that we might suit.” The longer she stood staring into his tortured eyes, the more she knew she had to pour every ounce of admiration she had for him into that one kiss.
The corners of his mouth curled in amusement. “Though I know you enjoy riding roughshod over me, Miss Hart, I wonder if I might take the lead when demonstrating our affection.”
“Of course.” At this present moment, she would do anything to distract his mind from painful memories of the past. “You should know I have only been kissed once, and that was on the cheek.”
“You speak of a father’s affection?”
Vivienne couldn’t help but laugh. “No, of William Campbell’s. I was sixteen, and it felt like being slapped with a wet fish.”
Mr Sloane’s laugh brightened his eyes. “Then I pray the second time proves more pleasurable.”
The last word rolled smoothly off his tongue. She’d heard tell of his skill with his mouth and hands, but suspected Mr Golding was not looking for the mechanical movements of a seducer.
“On second thoughts,” she said, “let me kiss you first. I will look terribly inexperienced. Then when you do whatever it is you do to make women fall at your feet, it will look more convincing.”
“Agreed.” He gestured to Mr Golding’s door. “Shall we?”
“Certainly.” She gave a confident nod, though her knees trembled.
When they entered the room, Mr Golding looked up from the notebook. “Have you arrived at a decision? If you need more time, you may come back tomorrow.”
“No, we have decided to abide by the contract and wish to marry.” Mr Sloane spoke as if he’d never had a doubt. “We will follow your instructions.”
“Excellent.” Mr Golding grinned. “That is excellent news.”
“You seem most pleased, sir,” Vivienne said, noting his merry countenance.
“I admit to feeling some relief, Miss Hart. One cannot help but think the intruder who ransacked my office was looking for a clue to locating your legacy. In all honesty, I long to be free of the burden.”
Mr Sloane’s gaze shot in Vivienne’s direction before settling on the lawyer. “Someone broke into your office?”
“Yes. Almost two weeks ago now.”
“I’d been to visit Mr Golding.” She’d come to persuade him to let her have a peek at the final clue. “It was the day Lady Hollinshead loaned me her carriage. The incident occurred late that night.”
“Did the devil steal anything?”
“Not that I’m aware.” Mr Golding gestured to the pile of papers on the desk. “Though I’m still checking the files.”
“Be sure to inform me if you find something amiss.” Mr Sloane removed a card from his coat pocket and placed it on the desk. “You may contact me at the Order’s office in Hart Street.”
“There’s nothing worth stealing here, Mr Sloane, except for your ancestors’ letters.” The lawyer turned his attention to Vivienne. “Hart Street. What a coincidence.”
“Hart is a relatively common name, sir, but I prefer to believe in fate, not coincidence.”
Mr Golding nodded and then consulted his notes. “Well, I suppose we should proceed with the erm, the erm …”
“Kiss,” Mr Sloane finished.
The tension in the air was palpable. That said, Mr Golding seemed the most perturbed. “Let’s get the matter over with so we may progress to the next part. Erm, try to pretend I’m not here. Pretend this is your wedding day. Yes, yes, a chaste kiss with some measure of feeling will suffice.”
Vivienne faced Mr Sloane. “There isn’t much room. Shall we stand behind the chairs?”