Teddy's plea and forlorn expression remained in the forefront of Rose's mind all the way to St. Mary's Catholic Church.

William's driver dropped her off, and less than ten minutes later she was ladling soup into bowls beneath the sanctuary.

“Not too fast this time, Henrik,” she said to a skinny Russian man of about sixty years of age. “Remember what happened with the potato leek last week. I'd prefer not to pound you on the back again.”

Henrik chuckled and relented in Russian, “Ya znayu, ya znayu…”

“What was that?” Rose asked, raising a cheeky eyebrow. “Are you arguing with me?”

“Not so, Miss Rose,” he swore in his heavily accented English. “I never argue with beautiful woman. You are right: eat slowly, don't choke.” He made a sound that resembled both a cough and a chuckle.

“Just so, you old charmer,” Rose agreed with a smile. She added another piece of bread to his plate. He wouldn't be in full health unless he managed to gain some weight. “Enjoy.”

“Spasibo,” Henrik said, thanking her in Russian. Plate in hand, he wandered away to take a seat with the others.

“Miss Rose!” a woman's voice called out.

Rose glanced over her shoulder at the speaker. Her heart sank. It was Anya. Anya had escaped St. Petersburg at the same time as Dmitri and the two had become friends. She knew Rose had gotten Dmitri the job at Warwick Hall and would be expecting a progress report.

“Anya, how are you?” Rose asked, forcing her brightest smile onto her face. She hoped it looked genuine. “Soup?”

Anya took a small helping, but her expression showed little interest in the food. “Any news? On Dmitri?”

“Well,” Rose said, not meeting her eye. “I'm in contact with his employer, William Mercer. But Dmitri is no longer at the estate. Mr. Mercer and his staff are under the impression that Dmitri took off.”

“Took off?!” Anya cried. She expelled a long series of Russian words that Rose suspected were mostly curses. “Where would he go?”

“I asked the same question,” Rose assured her. “Don't worry, Anya. Whatever the truth, I'm going to keep digging until I discover exactly what happened. This is far from over. And the moment I have an answer, I'll let you know.”

Oh, such false promises. She already knew the answer, but she couldn't bring herself to utter the words aloud. Not to Anya, nor to Daphne. One day at Warwick Hall and Rose was already a liar.

【♖】

After assisting the other volunteers with a post-lunch tidy up, Rose decided to visit Daphne. She already missed her cousin, and now that she knew what her first ‘assignment’ for William would be, she ought to quench the thirst of mystery and put Daphne's mind at ease. And perhaps ask some questions while she was at it.

As it was still early afternoon, Rose knew her cousin would be at work, so she set off at a brisk walk toward the building that housed the Manchester Daily Post. With any luck, Mr. Hughes would be too distracted in his editor and chief duties to notice that Daphne had a visitor.

Following a quick detour to Pumpernickel's Café, Rose arrived at the newspaper's office, a bag of baked sweets in hand.

Hattie Kohl, Mr. Hughes' secretary, all-but accosted her at the door. “Rose!” she exclaimed, her wane face breaking into a smile. “Been awhile! Lookin' lovely, as always. Whatcha been up to?”

“Oh, little of this, little of that,” Rose replied. Her lack of desire to share recent events was thicker than the rouge on Hattie's cheeks. “Good to see you, Hattie. Life treating you well?”

“As well as can be expected, given I live in this sewer pit,” Hattie replied, waving her hand at large. “Can't complain, though. What ya got there? Smells divine.” She pointed to Rose's bag.

“Sweets and more sweets,” Rose declared. She reached into the bag and set some biscuits wrapped in paraffin paper on Hattie's desk. “I don't suppose you have water on for tea?”

“Ya kiddin'? Always,” Hattie stated. She snatched a biscuit and began munching. “Mmmm. Way to me heart, Rose, right here. Your cousin's in the loo. Make yo'self to home. I'll be back in a flash with that brew.”

“You're one in a million, Hattie,” Rose called after her. She crossed the wide, cluttered room to Daphne's desk, and set the bag of sweets on the worn wooden surface. The desktop was in its usual state of chaotic disarray, papers and notes covered in Daphne's loopy penmanship tossed about in no particular order.

A prickle came to Rose's eyes. She had missed her cousin this morning. Breakfast simply wasn't breakfast without Daphne's cheeky commentary about the thinness of the walls and her noisy neighbors' erotic nightly activities.

“Rose!”

Daphne appeared in her line of vision. After a moment's hesitation, she pounced at Rose and enveloped her in a tight embrace.

“Hello, Daphne,” Rose said, returning the hug.

“What a pleasant surprise!” Daphne declared, releasing her. “I didn't expect you to visit. What brings you here?”

“I missed you,” Rose confessed. “So, I came bearing information. And sugary treats.” She motioned to the Pumpernickel's bag on Daphne's desk.

Her cousin glanced at the bag and grinned. “Then by all means, take a seat.”

【♖】

“Positively criminal, what passes for a croissant in this town,” Daphne announced, polishing off her last bite. “Mmm, but if that didn't hit the spot anyway. Thank you, Rose. Such a treat.”

“My pleasure,” Rose said. She finished her tea and set the cup aside. “Least I could do, after leaving so abruptly.”

“So,” Daphne said, adopting the brusque demeanor she usually reserved for interviews, “you'll be co-hosting the benefit for the Clementine Mercer Institute fundraiser? I have to say, I'm relieved. That's far less sordid of a task than my imagination was manifesting. Perfect for you, too.”

“You think so?”

“Don't you? The only reason the guests didn't run for their lives from the horribly redundant soirées at Thornewood Park is because you played host rather than Aunt Petunia. And thank goodness for that. She has the charisma of a poisonous Arabian viper.”

Rose tittered. “And the fangs to match!”

“She wisely keeps them retracted while conversing, but they're always there, ready to sink into some unsuspecting throat,” Daphne agreed. She made a suction noise and pretended to claw at Rose's neck.

The girls shared a laugh at the surly Marchioness' expense.

Once she'd caught her breath, Rose asked, “Had you heard of the Clementine Mercer Institute? Before today?”

“Heard of it, yes,” Daphne answered. “I thought that was one of Mr. Mercer’s more reputable endeavors. Seems to be legitimate, does it?”

“Yes, very,” Rose said. “The goal is expansion, hence the fundraiser. William seemed almost passionate as he explained the cause to me.”

“William, hmmm?” Daphne asked, arching an eyebrow. “You're calling him ‘William’ now, are you? Don't you think that's a bit, well, familiar?”

“I do, yes,” Rose replied. “But he insisted, Daph.”

“Did he now?”

“Yes. Speaking of, did you know he was a widower? Or that he had a son?”

“I'd heard rumors,” Daphne said. Dabbing her lips, she crumpled the paraffin paper from her croissant and tossed it in the rubbish bin. “But unless there's a business merger involved, the specifics of domestic life are not what one typically hears in regards to any member of the Mercer family.”

“No, I suppose not,” Rose conceded. She looped her fingers through the chain around her neck. “But I do believe this benefit fundraiser will be above board.”

“Yes,” Daphne agreed, nodding her head. “Yes, it would seem so. And as that's the case, I wonder if a journalist would be allowed to attend. Given the subsequent article paints the cause in a positive light, of course.”

“What a brilliant idea!” Rose exclaimed. “Yes, there should be a journalist in attendance! To detail the guest list, the venue, the fashion... It'd be such a change of pace from the usual disconcerting news, Post readers would eat it up! And who better to write it than the cousin of William Mercer’s co-host?” She wiggled her eyebrows playfully.

Daphne's eyes lit up. “Do you think you could convince Mr. Mercer to invite me?”

“I don't see why not,” Rose said. Her face split into a gleeful grin. “Positive press can only help the cause, right? Spread awareness? Perhaps, bring in post-event donations? I'm certain William will say yes. I'll ask him tonight.”

“Mr. Hughes will be absolutely beside himself!” Daphne declared. “Oh, Rose, have I told you lately how much I adore you?”

“Not so recently that I can remember the latest declaration,” Rose replied. “But as I would much prefer to have you attend the benefit with me, there's no need.”

Daphne leapt off her chair and seized Rose by the shoulders, peppering her cheek with kisses. “There's always a need, my sweet cousin.” She released Rose and settled her hands on her hips. “Now, to the most important question of all: what are you going to wear?”

“One of my gowns,” Rose replied. “I have a dusky, muted pink with an empire waist, and a deep blue with a tapered bodice. Both are quite lovely.”

“No, I think not,” Daphne quipped.

Rose sputtered a laugh. “I beg your pardon?”

“I've seen them. Lovely, yes, for an average guest,” Daphne clarified. “However, you are the co-host. And a host must catch the eye of every person in attendance. Never fear, darling Rose, I have just the thing.”

【♖】

After leaving a message with Hattie that she'd left the office for work-related reasons — should Mr. Hughes inquire about her absence — Daphne escorted Rose back to her flat. As they climbed the stairs to the second floor entrance, Rose experienced a breathlessness of melancholy. If only she could travel back in time a few weeks and find a different position of interest for Dmitri. Then he would still be alive, and she would still live here with her favorite cousin.

But then she'd never have met Teddy. Or William. Though whether the latter would be a blessing or a regret, she wasn't sure.

Daphne skipped to her bedroom and threw open the doors of her wardrobe. Hanging in the very back was a gray garment bag, and she removed it from the rack with great care.

“Rose, come here,” she beckoned. “Open the zipper.”

While Daphne held the item aloft by its hanger, Rose unzipped the heavy gray fabric, revealing a ballgown.

Never in her life had Rose seen such a gown. Fit for a duchess. Perhaps even a princess. Rich scarlet in color with embellishments of gold. The bodice was fitted with a faux corset of wide ribbon which laced up the back. The neckline was a swooping V, though not so low as to be immodest. Wispy translucent material was gathered about the shoulders in the stead of sleeves or straps, and the floor-length skirt was buffered by an underlayer of tulle.

Rose reached out to touch the red fabric. It moved like melted butter between her fingertips.

“Indian silk,” Daphne said by way of explanation. She wore a knowing smile as she watched Rose's reaction to the sleek textile. “I swear, this is what bedsheets in Heaven feel like.”

“My goodness, Daphne,” Rose said, her voice possessing a breathiness that she didn't recognize. “This is the most beautiful gown I've ever seen! Wherever did you get it?”

“A gift from our grandmamá for my twentieth birthday,” Daphne said. “I donned it that night, and never again. You must wear it to the benefit, Rose. It has collected dust long enough.”

Rose stared at the ravishing gown through misty eyes. “Do you not wish to wear it?” she asked.

“Given you can convince Mr. Mercer to invite me, I'd rather remain inconspicuous,” Daphne said. “Something simple and muted will do me. But you are hosting, Rose, and as such, you deserve to be draped in red and gold.”

“You really wish me to wear this?”

“I insist.”

Rose shook her head in wonder, her features alight with a wide smile. “Daphne, you are too good to me. My cousin, dearest friend, keeper of my secrets, and now fairy godmother? However will I repay you?”

“Honestly, Rose, you know there's no need,” Daphne replied. She leaned in with a conspiring smile. “But should I ever have need of an extravagant favor or supreme magnanimity, you are welcome to remember this moment.”

“I can't imagine you needing anything I wouldn’t willingly give, but I shall. I promise,” Rose vowed. “And yes, I will wear this gown to the party. It will be an honor.”

“Brilliant,” Daphne remarked. She laid the dress out on her bed and secured it back inside the garment bag. “I'm glad. Take it with you when you leave. Mark my words, you'll be the envy of every other woman in attendance. And the object of desire of every man.”

Daphne nudged Rose with a playful elbow, and Rose laughed.

“It should certainly help me win over potential donors,” Rose concurred. “Thank you, Daphne. It's perfect. I'm sure William will be pleased.”

“William?” Daphne scoffed. “Since when do you need his approval regarding your attire?”

“I don't,” Rose amended quickly, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Of course I don't. However, it's his party. For his cause. And he is the one who asked me to wear a pretty dress. That's the only reason he came to mind just now. Honestly.”

“I see. Only that?”

“Yes. Only that.”

【♜】【♞】【♟】

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