“I should like to hear about these goals. But first, I think the main issue is that your time is not properly sectioned off. You should have a time for general meetings, a time to meet with clients, and a time to work on the necessary secretarial work for the bank, rather than having them mix haphazardly throughout the day. I imagine it is not always possible to consolidate these tasks, but yourclerk should at least attempt to do so.” She came to stand beside him, lifting a paper up for his inspection.
His eyes rolled over the markings. She had copied his weekly schedule to the page, then made various notes with arrows, moving different items around.
“I also noted which meetings, by their summary, could be a letter rather than an in-person meeting, which would be better if you could manage that.” She pointed to three meetings throughout the week. “And you appear to have couriers arriving throughout the day with notes and missives from clients and partners. I would designate a time for those deliveries—barring an emergency—so you are not constantly interrupted.”
He nodded, seeing her point.
“Also,” her eyes slid to his, her lips quirking. “If you bring your lunch, rather than have it delivered, I imagine that would cut back on a few unnecessary minutes at least.”
“Yes, taking care of near-drowned damsels regularly would cut into my work hours.”
She nodded solemnly. “Immensely.” Then, stepping away and gesturing at the paper, she added, “I cannot be certain without seeing it put into action, but I believe a day or two of these changes and you will begin to see upwards of several work hours a week being returned to you.”
Andrew’s eyes snapped to hers. “Truly?”
She nodded, her lips twisted up at an angle that said she was just as proud as he was.
“Would you like a job?”
A light laugh burst from her, bringing a smile to his face. “If this position with Mr. Whitcomb does not come to fruition, I may take you up on that.”
As she smiled at him, he became aware of just how close they were standing. Their shoulders were nearly touching, her face turned up to meet his gaze. His chest heated at her nearness, and he cleared his throat.
“This is brilliant,” he said, lifting the page and stepping away. “I shall do my best to implement it within the next few days.”
She nodded, a smile still on her face. For someone whose emotions so clearly promenaded across her expression, he could read nothing there but that same pride as before. Was she unaffected by their nearness?
What a deucedly stupid question to ask. Of course, she was unaffected. He had no clue if she’d held a candle for him when they were younger, as he had her. But now she was married and would have none of these conflicting emotions raging through her.
Heshould have none of these emotions. What had happened to his logical capabilities?
“Now that my work is done, I will comply with returning to your home,” she said. “But after seeing the state of your schedule, I cannot in good conscience allow you to accompany me. There are nigh on three hours left to the workday.”
“And I cannot allow you to return on your own, after what befell you here.”
“It is a short ride by gig, Andrew. I believe I shall survive.”
He only raised a brow. That very short trip had nearly drowned her on the way here.
“Besides,” he added, when she returned his expression with an identical one of her own, “I have a social engagement this evening—I cannot stay late, and the work I have can be done at home.” It was not a lie, precisely. Social engagements could include an evening holed up in his friend, Rowan’s, house, which was exactly how he had spent the last several nights, only in Tristan and Charles’s company. Besides, he wanted Rowan’s thoughts on this resurgence of their boyhood wager. Hadn’t he been promised to some girl in their youth? He likely was not dismayed in the least by Thomas’s wedding and his own prospects.
Finally, Sophie acquiesced, slipping on her coat and crossing to his desk to pick up the basket she’d brought. It was still damp, leaving a wet circle in its wake. She bared her teeth in a grimace before wiping at it with the sleeve of her coat, which also had not entirely dried. “Fustian,” she muttered.
“My, Sophie, your language has—what did you say?Floweredover the years.”
She grinned, her eyes glittering with humor.
Andrew chuckled, packing his portfolio with the accounts and files he would need to complete before tomorrow, then taking the basket from her hands, despite her complaints.
He gestured her from the room, and they entered the main hall of the bank. Theirs was only a moderately sized bank, but Andrew was proud of what Mr. Sternam had built. Andrew had worked here for five years now and been witness to the growth they’d experienced.
After securing them a hackney in the still drizzling afternoon gloom, Andrew assisted Sophie in, then settled himself across from her. Even drenched though she had been, she was still beautiful. Her dark hair was rather flattened by the rain, but the cold had brought an extra measure of pink to her cheeks and the tip of her nose.
As the carriage began to amble slowly through the midday traffic, hampered by the rain still steadily falling, Sophie met his eyes. “Thank you. I apologize for intruding on your day, but I am grateful to you for seeing me safely returned.”
“I would hardly be a gentleman if I had not.”
She cocked her head. “And you have always been the gentleman, even when you were teasing me mercilessly—”
