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Beatrice leaned back and watched him from beneath her spectacles. He seemed nervous, his knee jerking accompanied by the anxious tapping of his foot. From time to time, he would take out his ornate, old timepiece, glance at it, and put it back into his pocket.

“If you wanted to seem less like a gentleman, I don’t think you should have brought the watch with you,” Beatrice noted. It was truly too refined to belong to anyone but a gentleman.

He shrugged. “I am never without it. My brother gave it to me before he went to war… He inherited it from our grandpa.”

Beatrice tried to study his features, but in the dim light of the carriage, it was almost impossible to do. “So, it’s a family heirloom?”

He jerked his chin in a nod. “But mostly, it’s a reminder of the people who carried it before me.”

Beatrice licked her lips to moisten her suddenly dry mouth. She knew that the Lewis family had lost a sibling to war. It happened a long time ago, but she supposed a wound like that forever festered. She, too, had an item she cherished. Her leather-bound little journal.

“And that time is short,” he continued thoughtfully. “That we need to take the opportunity to make the best of our life right here, right now.”

Beatrice let out a huff of laughter. “I can certainly sympathize.”

A strangled grunt left his throat. “You certainly can.” He said that almost like an afterthought, as if his mind was occupied with other things. It was as if his mind was far away while his body was seated across from her.

For the first time since their wager, Beatrice realized that she was a bother. He truly didn’t want to be here. He had better things to do, and his time was running out.

Well, so was hers.

“Can I see it?” she asked, simply to keep her errant thoughts at bay.

“Hm?” He raised a brow and then huffed his understanding. He slowly reached into his pocket and ran a thumb across the timepiece before handing it to her.

He wasn’t wearing gloves, and as their skin touched, Beatrice felt a jolt of awareness pass through her. Taking the watch into her hand, she kept her breathing even, just so he wouldn’t notice her reactions to their innocent interactions.

Beatrice was incredibly flustered. Her overactive imagination painted Adam as a possible suitor, a man who could save her from her troubles. But as she looked at the beautiful watch, the intricate craftsmanship, she forced herself to stop the foolish dreams.

He was only here because honor dictated he couldn’t leave a genteel woman in peril. He had other things to do. Better things.

Beatrice would not stop her plan because of this. She would still hold him to the wager and would get the tour of London that she wanted because she had her own timeline, and she wasn’t about to give up her only chance to fulfill her dreams. But she started to realize, with a heavy heart, that perhaps Mr. Lewis was not going to be her knight in shining armor.

She needed to accept her fate.

Beatrice flipped the lid open, squinted at the watch, then raised a brow at him, caught by surprise. “The watch doesn’t work.”

As the carriage swayed, the light fell onto Mr. Lewis’s features, revealing his boyish half-smile. He looked almost whimsical in his expression. “I know.” He extended his hand and pocketed the watch.

They made the rest of the way in silence.

Wherever this “one of the best pubs in town” was, it took them a long time to get there. The rocking of the carriage and the complete silence inside lulled Beatrice into half-sleep. When the carriage finally jolted to a stop, Beatrice was half a mind to stay inside the cozy vehicle.

“Here we are,” Mr. Lewis said cheerfully. “Since we are posing as commoner brother and sister, I think it’s appropriate if you call me by my Christian name. And I shall do the same.”

Beatrice licked her lips, feeling weirdly nervous. “Very well… Adam.”

He gave her a strange look but then stretched his lips in an artificial smile and exited the carriage. Beatrice left the vehicle, her heart fluttering with anticipation. She stepped outside with the help of Mr. L—Adam, a wide smile on her lips, only for it to die and be replaced by a frown.

They were on a dark corner of an empty street.

Leaves blew past them, the rustling sound as loud as drums in the eerie silence. The distant cheerful singing just added to the ominous atmosphere. Add some mist, and Beatrice could believe herself in the middle of a mystery book.

“Is that it?” she asked and heard hoarse laughter in answer.

“No. But we couldn’t show up dressed as commoners in an expensive lacquered carriage. Come.”

He offered his arm, and Beatrice tentatively placed her hand on top. The evening chill started coursing through her threadbare dress.