Fucking hell.
“Macfie,” he ground out. “You are treading dangerously close to peril at the moment.”
“I am not judging ye, sir.” Macfie’s bushy red brows moved up and down. “She is verra lovely. Excellent set of—”
“Macfie!” he repeated. “Enough. Bring her to me, if you please.”
“I was going tae say matched horses on her carriage, sir.” Macfie’s brows raised. “Whereisyer mind, Mr. Decker?”
Decker clenched his jaw. “Macfie, if you value your position at all…”
“Fetching her ladyship,” the devil said, an impish light in his blue eyes. “But if ye dinnae mind me saying so, Lady Josephine would make a lovely Mrs.—”
“I. Will. Sack. You.” He glared at his rogue employee. “And then I will throttle you. And then I will shave off your eyebrows myself.”
“Anything but the eyebrows, sir,” Macfie said, giving him a wink that said he did not fear his position at all.
He was right, of course. Decker would sooner saw off his own arm than sack Macfie. The man was too capable. Too comfortable as well, and aware of his own value. But vital, nonetheless. Loyal, intelligent men were not easily acquired in Decker’s experience. Or loyal women, for that matter.
He had certainly never known one.
Quite a thought to have as Macfie took his leave of the office. Loyalty had never mattered before when it came to the woman—or women—sharing Decker’s bed. Did it matter now? Not that Jo was sharing his bed. Not yet, anyway.
Soon.
Hell, not soon enough.
Before he could further contemplate the possibility, Macfie returned with Jo, who was wearing a pensive expression Decker was not certain he ought to like. Either way, it was damned charming. She was beautiful, even if her countenance boded trouble.
“Lady Josephine Danvers for Mr. Decker,” Macfie bellowed, his eyebrows performing gymnastic feats.
Jo winced.
So did Decker as he rose to stand out of deference to Jo.
“Thank you, Macfie,” he said pointedly. “That will be all.”
Macfie grinned and offered an exaggerated bow before backing over the threshold. Decker knew what was coming next, curse the blighter.
“Do not slam,” he began, only to be cut off by the deafening thud of the door slamming closed.
He winced again.
“The damned door,” he added lamely, sharing a look of exasperation with Jo.
“He does not know his own strength,” Jo said calmly, echoing Decker’s words from their last meeting at his offices.
“Amongst other faults,” Decker quipped. “Have a seat, my dear.”
She neared him with a hesitation that also belonged to that day, which seemed at once a lifetime ago, although it had just been a sennight. “This is a brief visit. Forgive me for the unexpected interruption. I have merely come to deliver a new pamphlet for the Lady’s Suffrage Society. We would like to run five hundred copies of this, to begin.”
Disappointment blossomed in his chest. She was here on official purposes. Not to see him.
What did you expect, you clod? That an inexperienced young virgin would have come to you because she needs to sate the devils of desire keeping her awake at night?
Right.He was an utter fool, wasn’t he?
Belatedly, he realized she carried a sheaf of papers as she held them out to him, across his desk. Across the sea of papers which mocked him now, all the symbols of the manner in which she had set him so thoroughly at sixes and sevens. For the entirety of his adult life, two distractions had carried him through: business and pleasure. And yet, since he had last seen her, he had scarcely been able to focus upon his business concerns at all.
