She arched a brow. “Performing my assigned duties and respecting a dying man’s final wishes?”
“A simple ‘yes’ would do,” he muttered. Of course she would be here.
He was stuck, but so was she. Even if Benjamin managed to find some other study to work in, Noelle would feel honor-bound to present herself each day as his clerk and personal advisor. There was no way out. They would be staring across these desks at each other until further notice.
He flipped through her documentation again, slower this time. It was good work. Clean and comprehensive. She had shaved entire days from the challenge just by offering him such a wealth of information. He slid a sidelong glance her way.
She had not known what might be in the will any more than he or anyone else had, which meant she’d had such numbers at her fingertips all along. She didn’t just work here. She appeared to be a phenomenal clerk. No doubt she had made an equally impressive personal advisor to his grandfather.
“Is there anything else I should know about?” he asked.
“I took the liberty of moving your assigned guest quarters to a different bedchamber,” she said without looking up from whatever journal she was perusing now.
Given her cool feelings toward him, Benjamin could only assume this meant he had been sent to the mews to sleep with the horses. Whatever surprise she had in store for him, at least it would only be temporary.
He dipped his pen in ink. The wise course of action would be to focus on the aviary, not on Noelle.
He dashed off a summons along with an offer of increased wages to each of the names on the list. He would gladly pay double to be done with this farce.
According to Noelle’s notes, the aviary required little more than window washers and workers to trim the shrubs. His spirits lightened. The project would not require a fortnight after all. He could be gone in just a few days.
At the thought, his gaze immediately returned to Noelle. Beautiful brown eyes squinted behind thin spectacles. Plump pink lips pursed to one side as she concentrated on whatever she read. Her slender fingers tucked one of her many errant tendrils behind her ear. His pulse beat faster.
No other living person reminded him more of Christmases past. Seeing her before him was like inviting a specter into his heart, whisking him back through time to a different day, a different Christmastide, a different spark in the air.
Five years ago, he’d still believed his grandfather might grow to love him. He would never have dreamed that the old man would steal the locket, much less have to die before returning it to Benjamin.
Back then, his father had still been alive. Benjamin was not yet in the House of Lords, not yet spending every waking moment hunched over a desk or shouting at a podium before his peers.
Back then, Benjamin had been naïve enough to believe he could kiss a pretty girl and maybe it would turn to more. That love was something he could keep.
He had learned differently. Nothing good could stay. The only encounters he was meant to have were with those who wanted little from him except what they could have right now. A favor. A kiss. A moment of his attention. Not a lifetime of it.
The Christmas after he’d left Noelle, Father had died. It was the last Christmas Benjamin had acknowledged. He refused to celebrate it… or even admit it existed.
Until now. Untilhere. Until her.
Everything about Noelle reminded him of Cressmouth. Everything about Cressmouth was designed to remind and evoke Christmas. Everything about Christmas reminded him of death and loss.
Everyone he had ever cared about had been taken from him. Since childhood, he had lived in terror of losing someone he loved again, until he realized the simple solution.Don’t love.
Such an ideology might not bring happiness, but nor did it bring despair. In a world where nothing lasted, it was better not to try, not to be disappointed, not to get hurt. He had left her because he had feared being left.
The wise course of action would be to suffer through the next few days with as much distance and silence between him and his ghosts of Christmas past as possible. Especially the pretty one in the gold-rimmed spectacles. The more he interacted with Noelle, the harder it would be to go. No sense playing with fire. He should leave their brief connection in the past where it belonged.
But temptation was so hard to fight. She was righthere, on the other side of the room. A short distance. An eternity this time. When he left Cressmouth, he would not see her again. This was his last chance to gaze upon her face, to hear her voice. To be this close.
He could not bear the silence. But what did they have to talk about, save the shared pain in their past? It would not do at all. He racked his brain for a new topic. A safer topic.
“Did Tiny Tim receive a bequest in the will?” he asked. He had no idea who Tim was, save that the man was rumored to be in want of a duchy.
Noelle stared at him for a long moment, her face devoid of expression. “No. Tiny Tim already embodies the spirit of Christmas. He wants for nothing.”
Benjamin could not imagine what that meant. As much as he wished to avoid any conversation that included Christmas, he was more curious about Tiny Tim than ever. Or perhaps it was Noelle who made him curious. The more time he spent with her, the more intriguing she became.
That way lay danger. He should focus on the task at hand, not Cressmouth’s townsfolk—and definitely not the woman seated across from him.
No matter how tempting he found her.
