Nor would she change a single thing. In fact, she resented his disapproval of her town, his dismissal of their joyful way of life. No one was forcing him to paintI love Christmason his top hat. If he didn’t see the magic, he was welcome to leave.
“I looked at the journals,” he said, changing the subject entirely.
She knew those books like she knew her town. He was right. This was a much safer topic.
“Did you have a question about the contents?” she asked.
“No questions at all,” he replied. “That’s what’s so impressive. Every piece of information one might want is presented within its pages in a clear, easy to follow manner. If one does not wish to peruse the inflow and outflow transaction by transaction, the bold headings and concise summaries quickly communicate the state of accounts at any given moment.”
Her pulse skipped. That pretty speech had sounded suspiciously like a compliment. Affirming her position as an essential part of Cressmouth. She stared back at him in silence, almost forgetting to breathe. How long had she yearned to believe it was true?
She had been left on the castle steps as a baby. No note, no explanation, no name. Although the villagers had taken her in without question, although Mr. Marlowe had been a wonderful guardian and mentor, Noelle had never forgotten that she wasn’t truly one of them. She had been foisted upon them by parents willing to leave a crying infant in an abandoned basket in the snow rather than keep her. Rather thanloveher.
From the moment she could toddle, Noelle had strived to be an indispensable part of her community. Not just to be needed, to be wanted, but to ensure she would never again be left behind. To convince herself she was right where she belonged.
Whether Silkridge intended to or not, his words had just affirmed she was at least important to the counting house.
“My own man of business doesn’t keep books as nice as these,” he continued. “I shall have to have a stern conversation with him about increasing his standards.”
Noelle blinked. Was that a hint of a smile curving at the corner the duke’s lips?
“Send him here,” she said when she found her voice. “I shall whip him into shape.”
Yes. That was definitely a smile. “You’d more likely stuff him with biscuits and hot chocolate. He would return home the most accomplished man of business in the city, but too portly to fit through my door.”
She found herself smiling back. He had deduced the culprit behind the treats in his guest chamber.
The gesture had nothing to do with her feelings toward him. She was simply treating him with the same goodwill all Cressmouth inhabitants showed one another. Nothing personal.
“Before I forget,” he continued, “your report on the aviary was invaluable. Every one of the workers named in your list reported for duty this morning at dawn. With so little left to do, the final touches should be completed by tomorrow.” His eyes met hers. “Thank you.”
There was no reason for the sudden hollowness in her stomach.
She hadmeantto be useful. Helping people was what she did. He was grateful. Considered her capable and thorough, characteristics she strived to portray. Hastening his departure was a goal they both shared. So why did she feel like she was losing?
“You’re welcome,” she managed, despite the pit in her stomach.
Perhaps she was out of sorts because she had not anticipated being praised for her efforts. Not just because she was a female in a traditionally male role, but because she was simply doing her job. Providing assistance to Silkridge had literally been her mentor’s dying wish. This was her post; balancing the accounts, her responsibility.
Yet Silkridge knew all this and complimented her anyway. He’d wanted her to know he appreciated her effort and recognized her talent.
He must be wonderful in the House of Lords, she realized. Demanding and exacting, without question. But also encouraging and fair. As generous withthank youas with demands.
“The papers say you are in charge of all of Parliament’s committees,” she blurted. “That you practically live in the Palace of Westminster.”
“It feels that way at times,” he admitted. “I head several initiatives but can neither take credit nor full responsibility. The committees work together toward a common goal. Every one of us wishes to make England a safer, healthier, more prosperous home for all its citizens.”
Noelle was not at all convinced that every lord was like Silkridge. The fact that he guided his life by such a principle caused a crack in her armor. They were not as dissimilar as she wished to believe. She cared about others. He cared about others. They both put community first. Hers was Cressmouth. His was all of England. He was as needed in the House of Lords as she was in this counting house.
The realization that they shared similar perspectives made her traitorous heart like him all the more. Her pulse skittered. She could not stay in this room another minute.
She leapt to her feet.
He jumped to his. “What is it?”
It was the obvious concern in his magnetic blue eyes. The way he strode toward her as if to rescue her from any evil, even the demons in her own mind. It was the familiar shape of the mouth she had once kissed and never would again. It was her erratic heart, slapping its wings against her ribs as if only by allowing it to escape could she once again fly.
“I…” The word was too soft, a breath, a plea. She knew what she wanted but dared not voice it, for fear he might give it to her.
