“Exceedingly.”
She gave him an arch look. “That and my sole company is much more preferable, is it not?”
His lips twitched. “Immeasurably.”
She chuckled, turning toward the desk, but he caught the way she bit her lower lip between her teeth. “If we find the book tonight, we can leave right after.”
“Of course.” The sooner they departed, the better for all. “So let us find that book.”
She paused, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Wait, Reaper is keeping watch over our carriage, isn’t he?”
The corner of his lips lifted. “I sent him on an errand.” He quickly explained what happened.
She let out a delighted laugh, eyes brimming with devilry. “Serves the man right! Let us hope my instinct is correct and that the book is here.”
“It will be here,” Oliver said confidently. He believed in her.
She cocked her head at him, amused. “How can you be so sure about that?”
“Because you are here.”
She blinked and, for a moment, simply stared at him. “Are you telling me you’ve placed all your trust in me? I am honored beyond words.”
He took a step closer, lowering his voice. “I believe the word is faith.”
“Lawks,” she exhaled a laugh. “Well, no pressure to find the ledger then.”
The corner of his lips lifted. “None at all.”
She turned her attention back to the chamber, scanning the room. Her gaze bounced over the bed, the nightstand, the sofa, and the writing desk. “Now, if I were Lady Havendish, where would I hide a secret ledger?”
“Beneath the bed in a suitcase filled with old bonnets?” Oliver offered, the scene from the other night filling his head.
Louisa smiled. “Probably not.”
Her gaze returned to the writing desk nestled against the wall. “It shall be a place where I can retrieve it quite easily to add to the entries.”
“That seems plausible.”
She strode over to the writing desk, her skirts brushing against her legs as he followed close behind, close enough to once more catch the faint scent of sweetness. “Many of these desks have hidden compartments.” She felt around it. “There must be a latch.”
He stared at her face, obscured by a black mask quite similar to his. It fitted perfectly with her dress. “That was lord Westbridgeson earlier, correct?”
She spared him a glance over her shoulder. “Oh, yes.” Her lips curled in annoyance. “Can you believe he approached me without an introduction?”
Oliver arched a brow. “One could argue that I did as well.”
“You are different.” She suddenly chuckled. “Honestly, it feels as though I have known you all my life.”
Oliver’s raised brow lowered again and joined the other in a furrow, an indescribable feeling entering his chest. He brought the subject back to the earl. “If your stepmother intended to introduce you, then she must have wanted to do so for a reason.”
“You are quite right,” she said, still fiddling with the desk. “Apparently he is to be considered a good match for me.”
He was most decidedly not. “What do you think?” Oliver asked her.
“I think it’s poppycock,” she answered instantly, then scoffed. “Ours would be a good match for the duchess, but not for me.”
Oliver bit back a smile.
