“Are you going to finish your story?” He wasn’t impatient now, although it might be better if he were. “You were saying…?”
“Very well.” Caroline exhaled. “Yes, the house party was at Seabridge Manor—a magnificent place I’d only heard of up until then.” Caroline remembered how excited she’d been when she’d learned she had been invited to join her parents and brothers.
The memory would be funny if she hadn’t come out looking so poorly. “It was a very special day—I think it was my aunt’s birthday. Anyway, adults and children alike were all invited to dine beside the lake—and there were dozens of us. We were told to line up on the dock if we wanted a ride in one of the rowboats. There were other girls, but they didn’t want anything to do with me. Oh, but I wanted a ride so badly.”
“How old were you?”
“Almost five and ten. When it was my turn, I tried to curtsey to the older boy helping me into that little craft. He was one of my cousin’s friends and did not deserve his fate that day.”
“You knocked him in…”
“But that wasn’t enough. No, I fell in after. Nearly drowned the poor thing.” Even now, she remembered the embarrassment of being pulled out by her father, wrapped up in a blanket, and dragged inside. “Everyone hated me after that and, as a result, I spent the rest of the week by myself. Mind you, my aunt and uncle didn’t invite me back for several years.”
“No one rowed you around the lake?” Mr. Black almost looked angry on her behalf, which wasn’t at all what she’d set out to do.
“No, but that was a long time ago. I barely remember it.”
Caroline winced.
Because she was telling all this to Mr. Black—her boss, a man she needed to impress! “You don’t want to hear this, though.” Sucking in a gulp of air, she found the courage to meet his gaze. “Ignore all that. Please.”
All he did was raise his brows. And then… he held out a hand. “Come on, then. I’ll introduce you.”
Staring at his palm, she wondered if he really meant to lead her downstairs as though she was a child.
“I won’t trip and fall around the press. I promise.”
He remained standing there, waiting.
“I’ll be fine.”
“I know.” But he hadn’t moved.
Oh. Well. Alright then.
Caroline cautiously rose.
Unlike when they had danced at the Darlingtons’ ball, neither of them wore gloves. She could hardly do so while writing, and she wouldn’t expect him to be so formal at his own business.
Which placed her bare hand in his.
In that second, all her brain focused on the place where they touched.
His palm was dry and warm and surprisingly comforting. He didn’t thread their fingers together but wrapped his around hers collectively. The pressure was firm, enough so her hand wouldn’t slip away, but not so tight that she couldn’t escape if she wanted to.
Which she didn’t.
But in the thirty seconds it took to lead her to the stairwell, her heart had lodged itself into her throat. Her lungs could no longer draw in the proper amount of air.
“How are you going to introduce me?” she asked. Her voice sounded breathy and weak even to her own ears.
“The usual way.” Was he teasing her?
“Don’t forget. I’m Miss Smith, remember?”
“Got it.”
Of course he remembered. He’d suggested the name, hadn’t he? Caroline could hardly think while his sturdy hand engulfed hers. And trailing behind him, she eyed the way his hair curled at the back of his neck, the width of his shoulders, and how his torso tapered down to a trim waist and firm backside.
