The Case of the Season

Chapter Seventeen

The next several days were a whirlwind Robin hadn't expected. Suddenly, Daphne was marrying Simon, the Duke of Hastings. Robin was completely caught up in helping with the preparations, and was entirely surprised when Sherlock arrived one morning as they were readying themselves for a visit to the palace.

She stopped short at the sight of him. He had been quite gone from her mind because she'd been so busy. She'd been thankful for the discovery, truthfully. If she kept herself occupied enough, she didn't have to hurt all the time due to the lack of his affection.

"What are you doing here?" she wondered.

His face fell slightly and her brow furrowed. "Are you not happy to see me?" he asked hesitantly.

He looked so unexpectedly vulnerable, and she suddenly felt bad. Especially since he had clearly dressed with her in mind. He was wearing his dark green suit and gold striped vest, and had ended up accidentally matching with her, since she had put on her spring green muslin with the gold accessories from the dress she had worn the first time she went to the palace.

"That's not what I meant at all," she assured him, stepping forward to take his hands in hers. She rubbed her thumbs gently against his skin, hoping to soothe him. "I just had no idea you were coming. I'm afraid we're about to leave."

"For the palace, yes. Your aunt asked me to accompany you."

"Did she? I didn't know."

"Because I forgot to tell you," Violet sighed, hurrying into the room. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be, Aunt Violet. You've planned this wedding in record time."

"And, as you know, it will not happen if this appeal to the queen today doesn't succeed," she huffed. "That's why I asked Mr. Holmes here. I thought the presence of another couple sincerely in love, but without scandal, might entice her to respond favorably."

Robin merely nodded as Violet went upstairs to check on Daphne. Sherlock glanced at her, clearly confused. Robin laughed and led him to the sitting room, where she sank down on the couch. "Let me explain," she offered.

"You look tired," he observed, tucking an errant curl behind her ear as he sat beside her, more concerned about her health than what was going on.

"A little, but I'll be fine." She took a deep breath. "I can't imagine you were paying too much attention to them, but Daphne and Simon were... fooling everyone."

"Fooling everyone?" he repeated curiously.

"Not too loud. Aunt Violet doesn't know. The same way that she doesn't know about us."

"Ah. They had... an arrangement?"

"I believe so. I don't know for sure. It's just a guess based on observation. I think that after Anthony and Lady Whistledown severely compromised Daphne's chances to choose her own suitor, she and Simon made a deal. He always bragged about never marrying, so I imagine that his interest in her was feigned to raise her social profile and make other men interested in her again."

"But now they are marrying? Why?"

"I'm afraid that's my fault," Robin whispered.

"How could it possibly be your fault, Robin?"

"Apparently, they were alone in the garden together at the Trowbridge ball. Miss Cowper saw them because she retreated to the balcony after I questioned her about Miss Beverley. I'm just piecing together what I've overhead the past few days, though. I might be mistaken."

"Whether you are or not, you didn't know they would end up in the garden, nor did you make them go there. You're not to blame."

He cupped the back of her neck and kissed her forehead tenderly. She blushed and smiled, raising her hand and resting it on his forearm.