“Were you discovered?” Clarkson’s brows drew together in mild concern.
“No, no, nothing like that. She kissed me.”
“Ah.”
“That’s all you’re going to say?”
“What should I say?” Clarkson shrugged, his voice mild. “Are you looking for advice?”
“I suppose I am,” Lyman admitted, though he’d only realized it in that moment. “She’s made it clear she’s interested in continuing things where we left off, but I’m worried the risk might be too great. What would you do?”
“I’dnever go near her again.” Clarkson didn’t hesitate. “But that’s because I know her father wouldn’t be likely to bother with a duel before murdering an apprentice solicitor who laid a hand on his daughter. The question you’re really asking is, what would I do if I were a viscount?” He made a little show of considering this, leaning back and stroking his chin. “That depends on how much you like this lady, and whether you think her father is likely to call out his social superior. Is he a good shot with a pistol?”
“This is an extremely sobering discussion,” Lyman replied. “I’m hoping he never learns I exist.”
It wasn’t as though the Danbys kept their children under close watch. As far as Lyman could tell, they’d never been at home when he’d called. The only person who knew or cared about their meetings was Miss Annabelle, and Della seemed confident that she could be managed.
“I hope so too, for your sake,” Clarkson said. “And for mine. I don’t want Mrs. Hirsch to have to replace you with another Mr. Wood.”
Lyman chuckled at this. What an unbearable prospect.
“Does this table seem different to you?” Clarkson asked abruptly,craning his neck back to assess the ceiling. “I swear it used to be nearer the window. I think Wood’s gone and moved it to have more space on his side at breakfast, but now my elbows keep hitting the wall.”
Lyman took a moment to assess the furniture. Sure enough, the dining table looked to be about eight inches further away than it had been this morning. “I think you’re right.”
Clarkson rose to his feet with a frown and wrapped his hands around either side. Seeing his intent, Lyman took the other end and helped him lift the table back into its former position. Once they were done, they both stood silent, listening to see if the noise had awoken Mr. Wood. They were safe for the moment.
Clarkson’s face took on a more serious air as he sat back down. “Be careful with this woman, though. Truly. Wealthy young ladies aren’t to be trifled with unless you’re prepared to compensate them with your life, one way or another.”
“And I’m not in a position to offer her my life in matrimony,” Lyman finished the thought for him.
“Precisely.”
Nine
Della was too excited to work on her book before Lord Ashton’s call the next morning, even though she knew she should. Today marked their third meeting, which meant she was nearly halfway through the two-month deadline he’d imposed for her first draft.
She wasn’t quite sure where the time had gone, but she wouldn’t despair yet. If she put everything else aside for a whole week and devoted herself to the task, she wouldhaveto catch up. That was exactly what she’d do, just as soon as Lord Ashton’s visit was over. Then she would feel better about everything.
But Miss Chatterjee called shortly before her rival-turned-mentor-turned-paramour could arrive.
“I’m so happy you came, but I must warn you I have an engagement at eleven,” Della explained as she showed her into the sunny drawing room. “I’m expecting a gentleman.”
Della must have been vibrating at a high frequency (probably owing to the four cups of tea she’d already drunk that morning to calm herself), for Reva was quick to jump to conclusions.
“A gentleman? I didn’t realize you had a new suitor!”
“I wouldn’t call him that,” Della added quickly. “We’re friends. He’s mentoring me for that guidebook I told you about.”
“Oh.” Reva looked watchful, gauging the situation before she replied. “Are you sure there’s no particular attachment there? You seemed excited just now.”
“I’m sure.” Della spoke firmly enough to hide the question in her heart. “I’ll admit that he intrigues me, but we wouldn’t suit. For many reasons.”
She didn’t know what stopped her from pouring the whole story out to Reva. Her friend would keep her secrets, and she’d been longing to confide in someone. But Della couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion that if she revealed Lord Ashton had an estranged wife out there somewhere and she’d kissed him anyway (in an alleyway, no less!), Reva’s opinion would be set against him. Jane would react the same way, no doubt. Which meant she couldn’t tell anyone about her budding affaire with Lord Ashton unless she wanted a concerned lecture on the subject, which she certainly did not.
I already have one Annabelle in my life.
“It’s been so long since you mentioned anyone who interested you. Have you given up on the season altogether?”
