It was an invitation without being an invitation. It was the "Promenade." The next stage of the marriage agenda.
"We shall look out for it, Your Grace," Lady Farrington beamed. "We shall certainly be walking near the water at two."
"Splendid," Rowan said.
He stood up immediately.
It was abrupt, but calculated. The reference books—and Delaney—had taught him well. Leave before the conversation runs dry. Leave them wanting more.
"Then I shall not detain you further," Rowan said. He bowed to the mother first. "Lady Farrington."
Lady Farrington stood and curtsied deep. "Your Grace. It was an honor."
Rowan turned to Celine. He took her hand again. He didn't kiss it this time. He just held it for a second longer than necessary.
"Lady Celine," he said. "Until two."
"Until two," Celine whispered, looking breathless.
Rowan turned to the corner.
"Cousin?" he said.
Delaney stood up. She smoothed her blue dress. She tucked the notebook into her small bag.
