Chapter 10
Ten
Harry’s best days at the office started off just like this—alone, with nothing but his pen and the papers before him. The silence centered him.
The steam from his coffee cup swirled toward his nose as he took a sip.
Admittedly, he was less alert than usual, as his return trip from York had extended late into the night.
He had stayed in Bootham longer than planned, watching Lady Skelton work, and visions of her kept him from sleep even longer.
The documents he had gathered on the Skelton estate were laid out before him when a knock on the door took him by surprise. He expected Parker to look apologetic, as he often did when his employers demanded access, but his secretary was fighting back a smile.
“Does he have an appointment? I would prefer if he could return later, but only if it is not too much of an inconvenience.” While interruptions to his morning routine frustrated him, he couldn’t send away anyone, especially if they paid his salary.
“She doesn’t have an appointment. But as she is coming from York, I was hoping you would be able to spare the time this morning. She aims to be back in the city before it gets dark.”
His hand stopped above a file. “Lady Skelton is here?”
“Pardon my forgetfulness. I did not ask for a name. I was quite surprised to see her here, considering she is a lady and all. I was not aware you had any female clients, since you . . . you know . . .” His voice trailed off, and he shrugged.
Deep breaths. Harry wouldn’t allow himself to be a nervous wreck for another meeting with the widow. Enough was enough. He closed his eyes to conjure her face in his mind, willing him to breathe, just as she had done before.
“Give me just a minute, Parker, and then show her in.”
By the time she entered his office, he no longer felt as if he were about to faint—a small victory.
His hands rocked back and forth where they rested on his knees.
They were always the last to calm. Fortunately, Parker was laying out the tea service.
If Harry were to try, the porcelain would rattle until it cracked.
Parker showed Lady Skelton into his office, and like he knew she would be, she was spectacular.
Her widow’s weeds did nothing to somber her appearance.
The little ornamentation she wore, a black onyx brooch and simple pearl earrings, complemented the sparkle in her dark eyes, somehow still visible behind her crepe veil.
There was nothing that would keep him from seeing her.
“Lady Skelton.” He jumped up, knocking into his chair. The sound of the furniture skidding across the floor stifled his greeting. “Please sit down. I was not expecting your visit, but it is a delight, nonetheless.”
Harry choked on the words. He had been much too forward, but maybe it could be considered just a friendly sentiment. It was hardly an admission that he had a tendre for the woman.
Do I have a tendre for her? Harry had always been curious about her, mildly obsessed even, but a tendre? His heart pounded in affirmation. His manhood twitched in agreement.
His body might say differently, but he had a brain, one that worked rather well. And that brain needed to get his body under control. She was here about the inheritance. Her entire future was uncertain.
“Would you like me to pour the tea?” She sat down across from him, her heat radiating, noticeable even with the distance. She was too close but not close enough. He nodded, and Parker excused himself from the office.
Her fingers were long and delicate as she held the lid and tipped the teapot. He reached for the cup, but she made a tutting sound. “Leave it.”
The subtle chastisement should have embarrassed him, but he found he quite liked it. She placed two tea biscuits on the edge of his saucer and handed him the tea.
She removed her veil, and he almost dropped his cup. Rose pink flowered along her cheeks. His appreciation of her beauty must not have been as discreet as he thought.
Agnes laid the veil on the table and picked up her teacup. “I do apologize if I’m being uncouth. I know I am meant to keep this on, but I find it inconvenient when I am trying to have my tea. Refreshments should be savored. I need to taste them on my tongue, enjoy the flavors.”
Harry’s mind jumped to other things that should be tasted on her tongue, or his. Stop. He was doing it again, lusting after this woman when she was here for important business.
Her husband had just been laid to rest less than a month ago, and besides, she had spent her first years of womanhood married to an aging gentleman, she deserved someone young like her.
She needed a man that matched her vitality in life, or she needed an established man with a legacy to protect her in the same way Richard had.
Either way, he was not that man, both a bore and a nobody.
Lady Skelton shifted in her chair, and Harry noticed the uncomfortable silence. He had forgotten to speak again. “I’m curious as to the nature of your visit. It must be urgent for you to come from York just to meet me.”
“Well, there are some plants I am unable to purchase in the hothouses in York, and I was hoping I’d be more fortunate here. I have some deliveries to make as well. Richard used to bring them to London for me when he had business dealings here.”
He swallowed a sigh. Logically, he knew she hadn’t spent hours on the train just to see him, but still he had hoped.
“But I brought you something. A bit of an apology for embarrassing you so terribly yesterday. I should not have directed my anger at you.”
“All is forgotten,” he said with a wave of his hand.
The widow was not at fault. Her world was falling away from under her.
He just wished he could catch her. His brain told him that it was his duty as the executor of the Skelton will to ensure her security, regardless of what was written in the document, but his body remained unruly.
“Either way, I brought you something. I have noticed that sometimes you seem . . . overcome by your nerves. But when they are settled, you are quite confident.”
She thought him confident? The compliment expanded inside him until he felt he might float off the chair. Although he could have done without her observation of his nerves, he sat up straighter, chest puffed out.
She rifled through her reticule and pulled out vials and bottles, lining them up across the tea table. Harry kept his hands folded in his lap and watched her with curiosity and anticipation. “Pardon me, Mr. Evans. All of my deliveries are just mixed up here. One of these is yours.”
She shook her bag side to side, inspecting the corners as she bit her lip—it was a habit of hers that Harry had noticed, and he found it intoxicating. Her lip turned a deep red where her teeth sunk into its plush bottom. “Ah. Here!” Her hand shot up, holding up the tiny vial in triumph.
“It’s the same passionflower tincture that I gave you yesterday. Your body responded well.” She froze as her words caught up to her. If he wasn’t clinging to respectability, he would grant her permission to speak of his body as often as she liked.
Regaining her composure, she continued. “I thought maybe you’d like your own to keep.” Her voice trailed off, a sign of her wavering conviction in bringing him the gift.
“Thank you very much, Lady Skelton. I truly appreciate being the recipient of one of your effective remedies.”
Harry reached across the table, now cluttered with a dozen glass vials, to take the one made just for him from her outstretched hand. Instead of letting go, her hand rested on his palm. Her searching gaze held his, and he was unable to move as he gave over all control to the enchanting woman.
The power she had over him was dizzying, and he couldn’t placate his craving for it.
It had been apparent since he first saw just a shadow of her all those years ago.
Eventually the nerves Lady Skelton had so aptly noticed crept back, refusing to be ignored.
He sputtered and pulled his hand away, cradling the precious vial in his lap.
“My secretary mentioned you might be on a tight timetable. I will call you a hack, if you’d like, to ensure you catch the next train.” He didn’t want to send her away, but now that she had delivered her gift, he thought it rude to inconvenience her any more than he already had.
“No. Not yet, Mr. Evans. I still have more deliveries to make.” She laughed, nodding to the collection of remedies now scattered across his table. “But I have time. I’d rather not cut our meeting short.”
She looked away, and her neck flexed under her collar.
The return of her blush suggested she, too, thought her words were overly direct, but Harry didn’t care one bit.
His heart was set aflutter, like the hummingbird hawk-moth with its wings moving as rapidly as the bird it was named after.
He was all but certain she would be able to hear it hum if she leaned forward and brought her head close to his chest.
Harry stood, once again knocking into his chair. “That would be very agreeable. If you’ll excuse me, I will just confirm with Parker that my morning is free from appointments.”
He knew it was. Parker never scheduled meetings before eleven o’clock, but he slipped the vial into his pocket as he left the room. In the hall, he swallowed three drops of the tincture.
Lady Skelton had all but said she desired to spend time in his company. He wanted to jump down the hall and click his heels together. But Parker was watching him with a curious expression. He took one last breath and reentered the room.
In his absence, Agnes had replenished his tea and placed another biscuit on his saucer.
The gesture warmed him, beginning in his heart, or quite possibly his stomach. The lower regions were affected as well, but he ignored that.
She was being friendly, and he was being a cad.
Mr. Evans returned to the room and when he didn’t speak, Agnes said the first thing that came to her mind.