“What’s this?” he asked, rising to his feet.
“It just arrived for you, Your Grace,” Mr. Billings said. “I don’t know who sent it, though—the fellow who delivered it didn’t say where it had come from.”
“Ah,” Reeves mused. “A not-so secret admirer!”
Norman made a face at his friend and turned his back to him to open the letter. The truth was that he had a guess who had sent this letter, and as he opened it, he saw that he was right.
Norman—
Please meet me tomorrow at dawn at the park near your townhome.
Sincerely,
Susan.
He frowned at the simplicity of the note. Was she not even going to explain why she wanted to meet him? Just this cryptic letter asking him to come out at dawn?
Was he going to do it?
He had to, he realized, little though he liked the idea. She was expecting to meet him in the park at dawn, which meant thatshewas going to be there. If he didn’t go, she would be there utterly alone. It would be unsafe. He was frustrated with her at the moment—actually, she drove him mad most of the time—but he couldn’t allow her to be alone in a dangerous situation. No gentleman—no man with any decency—would do such a thing to a lady.
He sighed and tucked the paper into his pocket.
“What was that?” Reeves asked him.
“It’s nothing,” Norman said.
“No, it was something,” Reeves pressed. “Let me guess—a love letter from the lady you aren’t going to marry?”
“Not a love letter. Merely a request for a meeting,” Norman said. “A perfectly sensible thing for her to want.”
“Yes, especially if she has feelings for you she has yet to confide!”
“You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said,” Norman glowered. “She doesn’t want to marry me. There isn’t going to be any wedding.”
“All right, all right,” Reeves said, raising his hands in submission. “I do wonder why she’s so eager to meet with you, though, if not for that reason.”
“I’m sure she just has something she needs to tell me that she doesn’t want to say in front of her father,” Norman replied. “It might even be somethingabouther father. I’ve been trying to convince the man to go into business with me. Maybe Susan is going to tell me that he’s decided it’s worth his while to do so.”
“Well, you can hope, I suppose.” Reeves smirked and got to his feet. “I must say, Norman, I feel as though this is all heading somewhere you haven’t anticipated, and it certainly will be enjoyable for me to watch it all play out.”
“You need to find something else to do with your time,” Norman said.
“Thank you for the drinks and conversation, at any rate,” Reeves said, rising to his feet. “I really do have to get home now. My wife will be waiting for me—and, as you’re beginning to realize, it doesn’t do to keep a lady waiting!” He smirked. “You enjoy your meeting tomorrow.”
“I am a duke now, you know,” Norman told his friend. “You do have to show me the respect that’s due my title.”
“And here I thought you didn’t want me to treat you any differently.” Reeves laughed. “I’m sorry, old friend. I know I’ve been giving you a bit of a hard time here. I don’t mean any harm by it, truly. In fact, I’m pleased to see you finding joy with a young lady. Even if you don’t marry her… I don’t know. When I came over here today, it was with the understanding that you were planning to marry but that your heart wasn’t in it. Now I believe it to be the opposite—that you don’t intend to marry,but that your heart is very much involved. And that makes me much happier. You deserve to experience that kind of emotion. It changed my life when it happened for me. I just hope that you can find a way to let it in.”
Norman paced over to the window, pulled back the curtain, and stared out at the yard.
After a moment, Reeves seemed to accept the hint. Norman heard his friend’s footsteps, the door opening, and then clicking shut in its frame.
His body relaxed as he let out a sigh.
He’s wrong. He’s always been a bit sentimental, but he’s definitely wrong this time. I don’t have feelings for Susan. Not like that. All right, I like her well enough—but at the same time, she drives me mad! That’s the only reason I’m thinking about her as often as I am—it’s just hard to put something so irritating out of your mind. She’s like a splinter or a toothache. Why would she tell me that she doesn’t ever want to get married? How can that be true of a young lady?
Perhaps he would learn something more when he saw her tomorrow morning. Perhaps then he would come to understand her a little bit better.
