Oh yes, when he’d been woken early by his butler and thought his mother had taken ill. Instead, he had gained a beautiful ward.
“First, however, where might my correspondence be?”
Eve sucked in a breath then picked up a stack of missives at the corner of his desk and handed them over. As Henry reached, their fingers touched, and an almost electric current shot through his hand--an odd tingling that made him want to touch more of her. Yet, apparently he’d been the only one affected, as it had been in the past, as Eve simply drew her hand back and grasped her skirt.
He might be fighting an increasingly uncomfortable attraction and desire but she most certainly was not, unfortunately. “I understand you’ve broken your fast,” he tried to make polite conversation.
“Yes. I have.”
“Good, we don’t want to waste any further time this morning.” He quickly glanced through the documents, all invitations, and then he saw a few missives for his friend. “Pickmore, these are for you.”
“Ah, thank you, Kilsyth.” He came forward and took what appeared to be invitations and settled across the room onto a settee.
“Your tea, Captain Pickmore,” Mrs. Peade announced as she entered followed by two footmen, each carrying a laden tray. “I’ve also brought coffee, Lord Kilsyth.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Peade.”
She gave a quick nod and exited the room.
“I’ll pour.” Eve stepped forward and first poured a cup of coffee for Henry, then a cup of tea for Pickmore before preparing one for herself.
“I daresay, Kilsyth, I thought you said that your mother’s ball was over a week away.”
“It is,” Henry answered dismissively as he gathered the documents he wished for Eve to read from today.
“Perhaps you should review your invitation again.”
He glanced up. “Why?”
“It’s to be held in two days’ time.”
Alarm shot through him and Henry stood, strode across the library and took the invitation from Pickmore.
“I’d mentioned that I’d not received an invitation to her yesterday,” Pickmore chuckled. “She had sent them out before she knew I’d returned.”
Bloody hell! “Two days! We can’t be ready in two days.”
* * *
If the ball was to be held in two days then she’d be free in three. The knowledge both thrilled Eve and brought trepidation. Was she ready to leave so soon, now that she knew it was an option?
Yes! She must go. No longer could she ignore the effect Kilsyth had on her person. Her fingers still burned from where they’d bushed against his, something that had occurred since the first time they touched, which was why she did her best to avoid being near his person.
“There is not a moment to be wasted, Miss Doyle. Finish your tea so we can get to work.”
He didn’t yet realize that there was no more work to be done. She’d spent the better part of last night repeating each and every sentence, concentrating on saying each word perfectly until she sounded more English than Irish and didn’t stop until the sky began to lighten.
“Are you certain you can perfect her speech enough to make others wonder in only two days?” Pickmore inquired?
Eve smiled into her tea cup before taking a sip.
“Of course. All it takes is a bit of concentration and determination. I have no doubt that Miss Doyle will not fail.”
“If she does, she could also remain silent, I suppose,” Pickmore offered. “It wouldn’t be so unusual for her not to have recovered her voice in such a short time.”
“No. She must speak or we will never learn if our experiment has worked.”
Experiment. That was all she was to these two. It galled Eve but knowing that she was nothing more would make it easier for her to walk out the front door in three days.
