☆ ᴡᴀᴛᴛʏꜱ 2024 SHORTLISTER!! ☆
A tragic misunderstanding. A murder. A secret. An unlikely partnership. A spirited countess and an enterprising racketeer.
~~~
Manchester, England. May 1925.
The Roarin' 20s. An era of glamor, decadent parties, jazz mus...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Having tucked a notepad, pen, and William's pocket knife into her reticule, Rose awaited the appearance of her employer. The sun had only begun to rise, but she paced back and forth at the foot of the staircase with a jittery energy that borderlined on chaotic. William had liked her ideas. She was to act as a spy. It was frightening, and worrisome, and exciting all at once.
She was about to abandon her wait and investigate the source of William's tardiness when his appearance on the staircase gave her pause. At last.
As he reached the bottom step, she dipped her head in greeting. “Good morning,” she said.
His expression was stoic as ever, and he adjusted his cufflinks absently with a practiced hand. Rose found herself wondering what sort of mood he was in after their rather heated exchange the previous evening. Not in the mood to tie his tie, apparently, as it dangled loosely around his shirt's starched collar.
William nodded at her. “G'morning,” he said in kind. “Did ya sleep alright?”
“I did,” she answered. She gave him an anxious smile. “Despite my nerves. You?”
“Fine, I s'pose,” he replied. “Ready to go?”
“I am, yes,” she said. “But you're not.” She motioned to his tie. “In the instance that we're discovered and taken prisoner by your enemy, I can't have you in such a state of undress.”
He smirked. “I was gettin' to that.”
“Allow me.” Rose tugged the loose sash of smooth fabric into place and began tying it for him — the same way she had countless times before, for her father and August. The action brought on the warmth of nostalgia. With the knot secure and the shiny clip in place, she stepped back to survey the result. “There. Too snug?”
“No, just right,” William said, his eyes twinkling in amusement. “Thank you.”
A genuine ‘thank you.’ How odd. But as Rose had no desire to sully the rapport they seemed to be building, she said nothing on the subject. “Shall we go?” she prompted.
“Aye,” William said. “Let's be off.”
Rose followed William outside to the wide circle drive where the car awaited them. He opened the vehicle's passenger door for her, and she climbed inside, running her hand along the smooth upholstery in appreciation. William took the driver's seat, started the ignition, and they were on their way.
The car was enviable. A beautiful piece of modern machinery that Rose knew her cousin Henry would positively salivate over. At the thought of her family, her chest tightened a bit. How she missed them. Her many cousins. Grandmamá Violet. Her father, of course. Everyone, really, with the lone exception of her mother.
And August. She missed August most of all.
But in his absence, perhaps she could do some good. Even if, at a glance, it appeared she was dallying with the very scourge of England's underbelly.
