He glanced away, but only for a moment. “She is no longer in my life. You and I have always worked well together. I find you attractive. You have indicated similar feelings for me.”
He opened the top drawer of his desk and removed a small ring box covered in royal blue velvet. He slid it across the desk toward her.
Her heart thumped. How many times had she dreamed about this? Her mouth went dry, and she could barely breathe.
“Open it,” Wesley prompted.
She did. Inside lay an emerald-cut diamond ring. She set it back down on the desktop.
“Did you buy that for Mrs. Beekman?”
“I bought it for you.”
It was impossible to know if that was true, but Wesley was an admirable man, intelligent and attractive and financially secure. She would be safe with him.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. “Papa, it’s late and I’m about to die from hunger,” Amy said from the other side.
“Another few minutes, sugarplum,” Wesley called out, though his eyes remained locked on Delia’s. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Amy has often mentioned how she enjoyed shopping with you.”
“If you think that’s sweetening the deal for me, you’re sadly mistaken.”
Wesley said nothing as a tangle of emotions warred inside her chest. Marriage to Wesley would be solid, secure. He would never dart off to France on dangerous rescue missions or gamble with their life savings. Yet she wanted to be valued for something other than being an excellent office manager or perhaps substitute mother for a spoiled young lady.
Delia stood, cradling the book of international treaties in her arms. She wouldn’t be pressured into making a decision now, andmoved to the door to open it. “Come in, Amy. Your father is looking forward to dinner.”
Annoyance flashed across Wesley’s features as Amy darted into the office and helped her father shrug into his coat.
“We shall continue this conversation at another time,” Wesley said quietly in her ear as he left the room, Amy at his side.
Reginald was the only person left in the office. It felt like old times again when she and her nemesis shared this space, always the last ones to leave the office each day.
“Did you know about Mrs. Beekman?” she asked.
Reginald winced, then gave her a look of sympathy. “I knew,” he admitted. “It was why I warned you away from Wesley. I often wondered if I ought to have told you but felt it wasn’t my place. In any event, your departure was a great blow to the firm.”
“He won his last two cases,” she said. “I saw it reported in the newspaper.”
“Those cases benefited from your assistance. Ever since then, we have begun to flounder. Amy is not all that one would hope for in an assistant, but Wesley doesn’t like leaving her alone, and he has resisted hiring another qualified assistant. He hasn’t even placed an advertisement for one.”
Probably because he was expecting Delia to return.
Should she? Nostalgia rose inside her as she gazed at the shelves of lawbooks, the late afternoon sun casting an amber haze across the room. This place had once been her second home, a place where she’d been happy and felt safe.
Wesleyhad been safe. Maybe his romantic feelings for her would never call the moon down from the sky, but there was value in predictable safety. And falling in love with Finn Delaney had never been a safe bet.
Even so, she mustn’t do anything hasty. Everything was happening so fast, and she needed time to sort her feelings. She took a long, fond look around the office before she left, wondering ifthis would be the last time she’d see it or if she should accept Wesley’s proposal after all.
When Delia got back to the Martha Washington, a telegram was waiting for her:
Sailing on the SSArabellafor France tomorrow morning. I love you, and I am sorry.
Finn
24
Delia arrived at the Chelsea Pier to say goodbye to Finn. The sun had just peeked above the horizon, and theArabellaloomed tall and imposing, her sleek hull rising above the boardwalk as the ship’s crew prepared to set sail. Stevedores wheeled pallets of food and other supplies aboard. Fat rubber hoses watered and fueled the vessel as sea gulls circled overhead, their plaintive cries sounding as desperate and melancholy as Delia’s spirit.
She huddled on a bench behind a rope barricade to watch people as they boarded. TheArabellawas primarily a cargo ship, with room for only a few dozen passengers. Most would be men sailing to Europe on business. Nobody else would be foolish enough to risk the dangerous Atlantic crossing in time of war.
