The River Knows by Amanda Quick Page B

employment.”

    9

    Shortly before two o’clock that afternoon brass clanged on brass with precision and absolute authority. Someone was on the doorstep, demanding and expecting admittance.

    Louisa felt her pulse leap. She tried in vain to suppress the quickening of her senses and the tingle of excitement that made her stomach flutter. Concentrate on the business at hand. Do not allow yourself to be distracted.

    Mrs. Galt hurried past the open door of the study, wiping her hands on her apron.

    Emma appeared in the doorway. She was dressed in the old gown she used when she worked in the conservatory. Anticipation lit her eyes.

    “I expect that will be your Mr. Stalbridge,” she said.

    “He is not my Mr. Stalbridge.” Louisa put down her pen in a very deliberate way, trying to appear cool and composed. “But, yes, I imagine that will be him. He did say he would call this afternoon to collect his fee.”

    Emma gave a small ladylike snort of amusement. “As if a Stalbridge needs your money. I doubt very much that is why he is here.”

    The front door opened. A low, masculine voice emanated from the front hall. Louisa felt a shivery little
    thrill stir the fine hairs on the nape of her neck. Calm yourself. This is a business arrangement, not a love affair.

    A moment later Mrs. Galt appeared, looking suitably impressed and not a little curious.

    “There’s a Mr. Stalbridge here to see you, Mrs. Bryce,” she said. “Says he’s expected.”

    Mrs. Galt had every reason to be interested, Louisa thought. Until now the only regular gentleman caller at Number Twelve Arden Square was Mr. Rossmarten, Emma’s sixty-five-year-old admirer from the Garden Society. The two shared a mutual passion for orchids. Having learned a great deal about Emma’s adventurous past, Louisa was fairly certain the pair shared another sort of passion, as well. Discreetly, of course.

    “Please show him in, Mrs. Galt,” Louisa said, maintaining her composure with an act of will. “And then we will need a fresh tray of tea, if you don’t mind.”

    “Yes, ma’am.”

    Mrs. Galt disappeared back toward the front hall. Masculine footsteps echoed.

    Mrs. Galt reappeared in the doorway. “Mr. Stalbridge.”

    Something deep inside Louisa tightened at the sight of Anthony. Until now she had only seen him illuminated by the glittering lights of a ballroom or enveloped by the shadows of a darkened carriage. A part of her had wondered if the disturbing sensations she experienced in his presence would vanish in the light of day. But Anthony was as coolly elegant and just as excitingly dangerous in an expensively cut coat of dark gray wool and matching trousers as he was in his black-and-white evening attire. He wore a stylish striped four-in-hand tie, and his shirt featured the latest winged collar. His dark hair was brushed straight back from his high forehead. She liked the fact that he was clean shaven. Whiskers were currently quite fashionable for men, but she was not fond of the style.

    He inclined his head with masculine grace.
    “Ladies,” he said politely.

    Mrs. Galt vanished in the direction of the kitchen. There was a short silence. Anthony waited, looking amused.

    Louisa finally became aware of the fact that Emma was making a small, urgent motion with one hand. It dawned on her that she was just sitting there, staring at Anthony. Embarrassed, she pulled herself together to make the introductions.

    “Good morning, Mr. Stalbridge,” she said hastily. “Please come in. I believe you are acquainted with Lady Ashton?”

    “Of course.” Anthony came forward and bent over Emma’s hand. “A pleasure to see you again, madam.”

    “Mr. Stalbridge,” Emma said in her customary crisp manner. “Do sit down, sir.”

    “Thank you.”

    He crossed the small space to take the remaining armchair. He looked at Louisa, eyebrows slightly raised in silent inquiry.

    “It is quite all right, sir,” she said. “I have explained the