Ring of Secrets by Roseanna M. White

Shirley all but shoved her daughter forward too. “We shall help you pick it up, Mr. Lane, no fear. My darling Elizabeth can bring order from any chaos.”
    Her darling Elizabeth hiccupped and slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with horror.
    Under normal circumstances, Rob would have been quick to round the counter and restore order himself. But because these circumstances were far from normal, he merely caught Winter’s gaze and silently shared the mirth she did an excellent job of covering. Though even her lips hinted at a smile in the corners. She had apparently caught one of the fluttering sheets and held it in her leather-clad hands.
    The other young misses had already bent over to help, though Rob winced at the way they trod upon more paper than they rescued. Lane seemed oblivious to the dirt upon it. He took each offering thrust at him with an “Oh…yes, thank you. And you. Miss…very kind. So sorry. Again, I…”
    After they had fluttered back into position behind their mothers, Lane heaved out a breath and stood to survey the lot. Rob watched the man’s shoulders roll back when he spotted the sole remaining piece of paper in Winter’s hands. “Miss Reeves, I do believe that belongs to me.”
    Rob quirked a brow. Not a stutter, not a blush. Indeed, it sounded as though the man smiled, though standing behind him as he was, Rob couldn’t be sure.
    Winter glanced at the paper with a good show of surprise. “Oh, I thought it a gift. Though I confess, when a man slips me a piece of paper, it usually has words of verse upon it.” Somehow she made it sound as though such words confounded her.
    Rob drew in a deep breath to keep his countenance schooled. Was he the only man to slip her notes, or did Fairchild and the like do so as they paid her court? Certainly, she would never laugh at any poem of the colonel’s and insult his ability as a scribe.
    â€™Twas the colonel’s loss. For he would never know the true mind of the lady he sought.
    Lane chuckled and held out a hand for the paper. “Were it appropriate, I would offer to return it to you with some clever poetry. Thoughmy verses tend to expound on Descartes or Lavoisier, so I doubt how well they would be received.”
    How did she manage to convey such innocence and oblivion in a single blink? “Indeed, I have never received either of those gentlemen. Were they at any of the balls I have been to?”
    Mr. Lane laughed, which made Rob’s fingers grip the edge of the counter. Thank the good Lord he was not often allowed in Winter’s company when she was with others. He could not have born hearing them find their entertainment at her supposed expense.
    With a shake of his head, Lane set the paper upon the counter. “I daresay you have met Descartes in some form or another, Miss Reeves.”
    Miss Shirley frowned. “Is he not one of those dreadful philosophers, long since deceased? The one who said ‘I am, therefore I think’?”
    â€œCertainly I have never met anyone who spouts such nonsense.” Gliding forward, Winter approached the counter. Finally, Rob could see the well-hidden twinkle in her eye. “My existence has never caused me to think.”
    A few snorts of laughter slipped from Winter’s friends, though Miss Parks rolled her eyes at Miss Shirley. “’Tis ‘I think, therefore I am,’ you goose.”
    Winter stopped a couple of feet before him. “So if I do not think, I will cease to exist?” Terror, feigned to perfection, saturated her tone and widened her eyes.
    Grinning like a fool—a lovesick one, no doubt—Mr. Lane slid his purchases to the edge of the counter to make way for the lady. “You are in no danger of blinking out of existence, Miss Reeves.”
    â€œSometimes I wonder.” Her low mutter likely went unheard by all but Rob, and perhaps Mr. Lane, though he surely wouldn’t know what