What in the blazes did that mean? Whatever it was, it meant the man was not dead, and therefore, Andrew needed to keep this arrangement even more cursory than before. The last flicker of hope that she was widowed winked out.
His midsection felt tight—not quite pained, but near unto that. He did not imagine he could eat any more, and he was, of a sudden, feeling the lack of sleep from the night before. Something about a warm meal and sitting for any amount of time seemed to do that.
“I, ah, hope you do not mind,” Sophie said, her voice stilted. He felt a cad—he had brought this awkwardness about. “But I gave Mr. Whitcomb this address. I did not share your family name or anything of the sort, just that I was staying here for a time if they needed to make contact with me.”
Andrew cleared his throat and his expression of any of the anguish he might have been harboring before looking up. “You went back?”
Her lips pinched as she pushed a lone carrot to the edge of her plate. “Yes. I thought to tell them I would still welcome the position, should they be in need.” She shook her head. “It felt very near to begging, but I suppose I hadn’t much pride left going back at all.”
“What did they say?”
“It was the secretary who answered the door. He did not let me in, though I did not push my suit. He looked down his nose at me and told me he would pass the message along.” She tightened her grip on the fork, then said, “I am not sure Mr. Whitcomb will ever receive the note.”
Andrew leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “Would you like me to bring one by? I might gain an audience with him.”
Rather than be offended at his stepping in, she seemed to consider his offer. “That is tempting. I think I shall give them a day or two before I try again, though. Perhaps I will lie in wait for the man to leave for the day, then put forth my suit. That sounds rather outrageous, does it not?” She shook her head. “I hate that I might actually consider such a thing. In the meantime, I shall pursue other possibilities for employment. None would be so illustrious, but beggars cannot be choosers, as they say.” She pushed the remains of her food around her plate.
Why was she still seeking employment even if this endeavor did not succeed? He forced himself not to ask.
“You… you truly do not mind if I stay?”
He minded a great deal, and he would go to the grave keeping that information to himself. “Not in the least. You are a friend of the family. I am happy to have you as my guest. I must admit it is nice to have something beyond cold meat and cheese for dinner.”
A spark of entertainment touched the lines around her eyes. “Your cook said much the same thing. It would seem you have not let her stretch her wings while in residence alone.”
“It feels wasteful to have anyone cook just for me.”
“I can understand that. If you would prefer to keep to the meat and cheese normalcy, I do not mind in the least.”
“No. No, this is quite alright, though you need not wait up for me.”
“So, you are often late?”
“More late than on time.” What an interesting dichotomy there was warring within him. He both wanted to stay and continue conversing in this easy manner… and flee the scene entirely.
“What would you say to me looking at your schedule?” she asked, her voice holding a tentative quality.
He looked his surprise at her. “You need not do that.”
“I know it is terribly forward and rather overstepping, but I have a great deal of experience with organization and scheduling. I might be able to help you organize things a bit better. If you do not mind.”
He enjoyed his work—more than he enjoyed the social events that would occupy his evenings were he not in the office. But some extra hours would not be remiss; it might free up a bit of time for other, personal pursuits. He did need to decide what to do about the ridiculous wager—not that he felt comfortable attempting anything like finding a wife while Sophie was in his home.
“It certainly would do no harm,” he said, unable to say no to that hopeful expression on her face.
Her mouth split with a smile. “Wonderful. Tonight?”
“Maybe tomorrow?” he hedged.
“Yes, yes, of course. You probably want some sleep—I have a tendency to dive into things without thinking them through entirely.”
Had she done that with her marriage? Is that why she was in the situation she was now? Alone, without her husband, desperately seeking employment? He very nearly opened his mouth to ask before he recalled his resolve not to pry into her personal life. Two weeks. They would just have two weeks of pleasantries and the barest of sentiments.
He could do that. He had to.
Chapter Five
One full day of biding her time in the Langford townhouse, and Sophie determined that her situation was indeed desperate enough to seek an alternative form of employment. It did not mean she was abandoning her dream of making history, but a woman had to be practical. And practicality told her not to put all her eggs in one basket.
