The Case of the Season

Chapter Seven

Robin paced back and forth across the floor of her room. She stopped in front of the mirror to check her appearance one more time, cursing herself for caring so much about it.

The Duke of Hastings was going to be in attendance at dinner, as was Sherlock Holmes. So here she was, concerned about how she looked, even though he'd honestly admitted to her that he was never going to marry.

She didn't know why she insisted on trying so hard when there was clearly no point.

"Infuriating man," she muttered under her breath. "Infuriating rules."

She was frustrated that she couldn't properly work his case with him. He wanted her to, and he clearly wasn't going to be untoward. But that didn't matter, according to society. If it had been only her reputation on the line, she would have thrown it to the wind, but she couldn't take everyone down with her. It just wouldn't be fair.

She'd been trying to think of a better solution since the opera, but she was no closer to one. And now she had to endure dinner with him while everyone around them thought there was a chance that they would one day be wed.

It was all intolerable, but there was no way for her to get out of it.

"Robin, dear, are you ready?" Violet called.

"Yes, Aunt Violet," she called back. "I'll be down shortly."

She rushed down the stairs, her light yellow muslin dress flowing out slightly behind her. She slowed when she reached the floor, taking a deep breath to calm herself before walking demurely into the dining room.

Sherlock Holmes was standing at the window, hands folded behind his back while he spoke with the Duke of Hastings. When he saw her out of the corner of his eye, he turned and smiled, then nodded at her.

She nodded back. She'd have to remind him of what she'd said about making sure his behavior didn't imply he was seriously courting her.

Not that she would have deterred him if he was. But she wasn't in love with him. She simply reasoned that they were well-suited for each other in many ways.

It occurred to her that she could let him persist until it was no longer proper, at which point they would have to marry. But entrapment was hardly what she was after, though it suited many women very well.

They couldn't do anything regarding the case here tonight. Perhaps if she kept her distance, he'd get the point.

Though her aunt sat them next to each other, Robin kept her attention steadfastly elsewhere for the rest of the evening, only responding to Sherlock when he spoke to her directly.

Violet watched her curiously, perhaps looking for signs that something had changed between them.

Robin could have told her the truth, but she didn't want to damage Sherlock's reputation either. He was just being honest, and she wasn't going to force him to share his thoughts with anyone else if he didn't wish to.

As the night wore on, he became quieter and his brow furrowed in thought. But he said nothing to her about her disinterest, merely wishing her a good evening as he left.

She changed and got into bed, but she couldn't sleep. She just stared at the ceiling, wishing there was some magical way to fix all of her problems.

But there wasn't, of course, which was why she soon found herself being dressed for yet another ball.

"I feel ridiculously ostentatious, Aunt Violet," Robin admitted as the older woman finished adjusting the gown she'd bought for her.

It had been a surprise. Robin wouldn't have accepted if she could have avoided it, but it was useless to say no. And it would have been terribly rude of her. She knew that she had to be gracious about her aunt's generosity, as guilty as it made her feel.