leaving this afternoon for the Bronte Hotel. The party is at seven.”

“I’ll be back on time,” Declan utters as he leaves.

Matthew thinks about the gentle voice of the young lady who saved him. He's convinced he would've died if she hadn't arrived on time. His vision is much improved, but during the fire, he was blinded. It would've taken a miracle for him to escape. How will he find her to thank her?

He sighs deeply and sips on his tea. Perhaps he can hire an investigator after the wedding to find her. Matthew grins as he thinks about the wedding. Soon his promise will be complete, and he can rest.

Chapter 10

Declan stares at his shop, and anger vibrates through his body. Luck played a huge part in the fact that the shop didn't burn or spread to the whole building. No one saw anything. The builders he's hired have been able to replace the front doors, and the inside has been cleared out. They moved the pieces they were able to save.

The smoke damage wasn't as bad as the newspaper made it seem. The article should be published tomorrow, but already the investors are dumping the stocks. The only question now is how low they will go.

He is well aware that he will inherit from his grandfather, but he has a burning desire inside to make his own mark. Growing up at his father's feet, watching them craft, and build furniture taught him the meaning of hard work. Leaving England when he was a young man to come to America and expand the family business was his idea. He feels responsible for its success or failure.

There's no time for romance. That will come later. He's going through with this for his grandfather, to give him the peace he seems to need. Marrying a woman he doesn't love to appease him doesn't sit well. It has snowballed so quickly he's not sure how to back out at this late stage.

Declan sighs, sitting heavily inside his shop and lifts up a tool. When did he become such a pushover? Say what you want, he thinks, but there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for someone he loves. He locks up the shop and heads home. Time to go to a party.

Chapter 11

London puts the finishing touches on Reagan's dark hair and steps back to look at her. She is oddly quiet and fidgets with her gloves. They are a perfect complement to the golden silk ball gown. Her hair shines with beautiful flowers strategically placed, and around her throat is a choker given to her from her father.

“You look beautiful,” London says softly. Her leg is throbbing, and it's time for the lotion on her hand. The ball began twenty minutes ago, but Lady Hubbard insists on being late.

“Thank you, I only wish this night were over with.” Reagan sighs and stands to straighten her dress.

“It will go by quickly, I’m sure. You should try to enjoy yourself and get to know your husband to be,” she suggests.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Reagan jumps when someone pounds on the door.

Lady Hubbard sweeps inside, she is breathtaking in her silver bustled gown and draped in jewels. The design of her dark hair is intricate braids and long curls with a large number of flowers. Her tiny corseted waist is draped in ribbons and flours leading down to the floor in a gorgeous train.

“It’s time.”

Reagan nods and follows them quickly from the room. London sighs and sits with relief when the door shuts. She drags off her gloves and removes the stocking from her calf. The red, rippled skin on her leg is starting to heal. It was minor compared to her hand. Thankfully, her calf didn't blister, like her hand. The palm is swollen with a huge blister. Using the cream Elliot gave her, she spreads it over her calf and wraps it in gauze before pulling the stocking back up.  It is only when she is soaking her blistered hand in a bowl of cool water that the idea strikes her.

“Visit the ball and try to talk to Lord Sheridan! London, you're an idiot!” She jumps up and hurries to her room to dig out her gown from her trunk.

She never travels without two outfits to change into. “What is the chance they will recognize the midnight blue silk gown?” Glancing at it with a frown, she shakes her head. “No, the seamstress re-worked it according to my instructions.” The original neckline was too low for London to feel respectable, so she had her add layers of black lace ruffled around the top. The bustled skirt had layers of ruffles, flowers, and trims, which London had removed and replaced with a sheer mesh overlay of black lace. The resulting gown is simple and stunning.

After a glance in the mirror, she removes her glasses and hangs her maids uniform up before releasing her hair from the tight bun. Running out of time, she brushes it until it shines and twists the sides of her hair, leaving the back down, allowing the tight waves to release.

Stepping into the gown, London glances at herself in the mirror and smiles. Hard work and time has changed her body. Gone is the young girl, and in her place a young woman stands. London is surprised to see the pride in her eyes reflected back at her. This is how she's supposed to look. She slides on the long black silk gloves and hisses at the pain in her hand.

“Find Lord Sheridan, warn him, then disappear. No one will be the wiser. The Mouse will return, and the lady will disappear.” She nods at her reflection and stands up, reminding herself to stand tall.

Once these balls were regular occurrences when she was younger. The rules were

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