Ring of Secrets by Roseanna M. White Page A

to make of it. She rested her hands upon the counter. “Now, Mr. Townsend. Have you the last order I placed?”
    Rob snipped off a length of twine to tie round the soiled paper. At the niggling of his conscience, he added a few extra fresh sheets to the top of the stack, which earned him a grateful nod from Mr. Lane. As he bound them up, he glanced at Winter. “The lace of gold your grandmother wanted for you? Yes, I have put some aside.”
    Her eyes snapped like an angry flame. “I was referring,” she said, voice low, “to the other item, sir. The special…perfume.”
    Rob pressed his lips together, his thoughts winging to the precious bottles of stain and counterpart he had received not two days ago. He had enough now to spare a bottle for her, yes, but what if he ran out before Tallmadge could ship him more? He would never dare send a message to Woodhull without using the stain. It was too dangerous.
    Though no less dangerous for her to leave messages for him for any to see, she would argue.
    But she could have found a time to question him about it when they were not surrounded by over-curious, fluff-brained females and a gentleman who watched her as though she were the very light of the heavens. Rob cleared his throat. “I have it, yes, though are you certain you want a new scent?”
    A flicker of annoyance flashed through Winter’s eyes. “I am quite certain, Mr. Townsend, otherwise I would not have asked for some.”
    A sigh leaked out. He could spare a vial of each for her. It would make their correspondence far more secure than the heat-developed inks, which anyone with a flame could expose. But how was he to give her the instruction on its use? He would have to visit her at Hampton Hall in the next several days and find a time to teach her. The stain was far too delicate to be applied willy-nilly. And the counterpart could as easily destroy the hidden message as it could develop it.
    â€œThat reminds me,” Miss Shirley said, turning to her mother. “I am nearly out of rose water, Mama. We ought to purchase some while we are here.”
    â€œAs soon as Mr. Townsend has finished filling Miss Reeves’ order, dear.”
    Winter lifted her brows. Rob nodded. “Just a moment, ladies. I have not yet put this new perfume in the shop, so I must fetch it. Do browse my selection of ribbons while I am away, though.”
    Oakham appeared from the back, his smile pasted on. “I can assist the ladies while you step out, Townsend.”
    â€œThank you, Mr. Oakham.” That would guarantee his partner would not be standing over his shoulder seeing what he ought not see.
    He couldn’t resist another glance at Mr. Lane before he left. The young man—he must be in his mid-twenties, like Rob—kept his gaze trained on Winter, his expression announcing for all to observe that he was smitten.
    Half the men in the City of New York would have to admit to the same.
    But Winter did not so much as look at him. She studied her hands and then the shelves on the wall behind the counter, appearing for all the world as though her brain really were so empty that she might cease to be at any moment.
    Rob moved into the storeroom with a shake of his head and indulged in a smile. Who would have guessed all that playacting she had once done with his sister Sally would turn out to be so useful?
    Lines of crates and boxes cluttered this back room. Oakham had insisted on trying out a new system of inventory, and it had resulted in one inexplicable mess. But in this particular instance, the lack of order suited him fine. His partner hadn’t paid any heed to that one spare box of “medicine” that had arrived, and he would certainly not note Rob slipping some of it into a small box marked “perfume.” Nor would he know how fared their stock of perfume enough to realize he hadn’t given any of that to Winter.
    Even so, he must remember to take