☆ 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...
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The blood drained from Rose's face.
Elton Willoughby? Had she actually heard the name Elton Willoughby come out of the mouth of William Mercer?
Stricken, she sank down onto the chair in front of the desk, short of breath like she'd been punched in the gut. How? How could William know about Elton Willoughby? No one knew! Rose had kept her illicit affair with her father's solicitor an iron-clad secret. She'd been discreet. She'd covered her tracks. She'd told no one and neither had her married paramour.
In aghast muteness, Rose stared at William across the desk. What could she say? What words, in statement or in question, could she possibly utter that wouldn't make this precarious situation worse?
“Still married, isn't he?” William remarked, returning to his seat. His cavalier expression and tone of voice were proof that he already knew the answer to his question, and then some. “And I'm guessin' Mrs. Willoughby would still be royally pissed that such a pretty young ingènue was shaggin' her husband behind her back. Probably run her mouth to everyone who would listen, if she found out.”
“How do you—?” Rose began. She struggled to swallow against her parched throat and tried again. “How do you know that name?”
William studied her from across the desk. “How do you think I know it?”
Rose pressed her palm to her forehead. Her thoughts were a muddled, fretful mess. “Elton isn't mentioned in my diary,” she mumbled toward her lap. “Not once. And I know your mystery source couldn't have discovered us. There's no proof. No clues…”
But what other explanation could there possibly be? Rose could think of none.
Well, one. But it was impossible.
“Does it matter?” William asked. “The point is, I know.”
“Yes, William,” Rose snapped. Her head jerked up so that she could meet his eye. “It most certainly matters. How do you know about Elton?”
He simply stared at her, maddeningly stoic, as if he were contemplating the weather rather than threatening to ruin her life.
As the seconds ticked by, the impossible scenario Rose had dismissed moments ago became more and more plausible. But it couldn't be. Could it?
“How?” she repeated, the word of query more breath than voice.
With a slight tilt of his head, William replied, “Ya really want the answer to that, love?”
“Yes,” she whispered, even as her heart screamed, No!
William's eyebrow arched by a fraction. “Think ya already know.”
Rose felt numb and faint. Her heartbeat echoed so loudly in her ears that the repetitive boom drowned out all other sound. At last she said, “...Daphne?”
