Taylor tightened his fist further, and Henry hurried to his side. As discreetly as possible, he pushed his way between the secretary and Miss Smith. Taylor looked ready to lash out, and Henry wouldn’t put it past the man to strike a woman.
“Calm yourself,” Henry said. “You made the decision to do what you did. If there are consequences for it, you will have to face them.”
Taylor ignored Henry. He gripped the edge of the pianoforte and bent over to speak around Henry’s middle. “I would have taken care of you. I would have shared my good fortune. You have shown yourself not to be worthy of my attentions, however. You will regret not accepting my proposal.”
Miss Smith finished the song with a flourish, then neatly folded her hands. “I think not. I think marrying you would have been worse than marrying Lord Perrin. Perhaps even worse than prison. I’d thought there was a possibility you’d acted out of kindness, but now I see that isn’t a characteristic you possess.”
Henry casually knocked Taylor’s hand from the instrument, causing the man to stumble forward a step. “I will turn the pages for Miss Smith. Your services are no longer needed.”
Taylor’s face darkened to brick red. “I’m better off,” he said before stomping out of the room.
Henry’s shoulders lowered an inch. “I can’t believe you seriously contemplated marrying that man.”
Miss Smith’s nostrils flared. “I didn’t feel I had many choices. I still don’t. My father will find another man of means and contract my services to him.” She nodded to the sheet music.
Henry closed his gaping mouth and turned the page. Surely she didn’t meanservicesin that way. A lady would hardly allude to that. He cleared his throat. “Your father won’t take your preferences into account when he makes his decision?”
She gave him a look from the corner of her eye. “The fact that it is his decision to make is the problem.”
Henry couldn’t deny that a woman of Miss Smith’s station often wasn’t able to choose her own husband. Miss Smith lived in comfort and never had to worry about her next meal, but she had fewer freedoms than women from his own class. Most women he knew would gladly trade their poverty for their independence, however.
“I’m certain your father would only have you marry a man who he thinks will take care of you.”
Miss Smith’s fingers slowed to a finish. “Are you?” she said quietly. “Are you certain? I wish I could be.”
The sorrow in her voice tugged at something deep inside of him. The problem was he wasn’t certain. People traded other people all the time, often times those to whom they were closest.
She stood from the piano bench, the faint scent of flowers wafting from her body. Her big, brown eyes held an almost accusatory glare in them when she lifted her head to his gaze.
He hesitated a moment, his body having the inexplicable urge to lean closer to hers, to lower his own head to meet hers.
Which was all kinds of foolish. He stepped back, giving her space. But he couldn’t stop from holding up his hand, nor the quick surge of pleasure that raced through him when she gave him hers and he helped her step out from the bench.
Perrin would have been a fortunate man had he married Miss Smith.
He let her go and watched as she joined her father for a drink.
And perhaps it was Miss Smith’s good fortune that Perrin was dead.
Chapter Sixteen
Katherine
There it wasagain. The squeak. Katherine hadn’t closed her window’s drapes, and the moonlight cast blue shadows in her bedroom. She sat up in bed and scanned the room, but saw nothing to account for the sounds.
Shivering, she pulled the covers closer about her. Her fire had been but embers when she’d readied for bed and now the grate was cold.
The sensible thing to do would be to lay back down, pull the covers over her head, and search for the so-far elusive sleep. And, for the most part, she was a most sensible person.
A sound like a wail torn by the wind made her flesh pebble. But she wouldn’t be able to sleep if these noises persisted, and as her sisters and father could attest, when she lacked a good night’s sleep, she became decidedly unreasonable. A grumpy badger, she had been called, and that was the kind epithet. A crazed shrew was the term her eldest sister preferred.
All Katherine knew was that if there was a ghost haunting the hallways of this house, it was incredibly rude to be wailing when people needed sleep. And if it were other guests keeping her awake, she wanted to give them a piece of her mind.
She tossed her covers aside and slid out of bed. Reaching for her wrapper, she slid it on, knotting it tightly, as she made her way to the door. Pressing her ear to the wood, she held her breath. There were definitely voices, and was that laughter?
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She flung open her door and stuck her head out. “Anyone there?” she called softly. She didn’t want to be the annoyance that kept anyone else awake.Shehad manners.
Silence settled around her. Windows at the ends of the hall gave some illumination at the edges, but pitch dark loomed in the space near her. Katherine waited a minute, listening and knowing everyone else was having sweet dreams but her, before giving up. She started to close the door.
