He stood and straightened his gray suit jacket. “Please, show her in.” Suddenly nervous, he adjusted his black silk cravat with the diamond pin in the middle—a new fashion for men that he quite liked.
When she walked in, he lost his breath. She was stunning—an angel dressed in red. Wearing a short waist cherry-red jacket over her white blouse with gold buttons, her full skirt matched the jacket trimmed with black. She wore no bonnet today, for which he was grateful. He loved seeing her curly light brown hair. She had wound it in a loose coil at the back of her head, leaving curly wisps by her ears. She certainly was a vision. Slowly, the doubts he had earlier faded.
“I can see you approve of my attire this time,” she said with a light and jovial voice.
“Indeed, I do.” He walked around his desk, and just before reaching her, he put out his hand. She must have read his thoughts, for she slipped her black-gloved hand into his has he led her to his desk before releasing her hand.
“I will admit,” he continued, “you are much easier on the eyes dressed this way.”
She laughed as her gaze ran over his length. “And I will return the compliment. At least your clothes are not two sizes too big.” She touched her gloved fingertips above his top lip. “And you look much better without a mustache.”
Quickly, he snatched her hand before she could take it away, and brought her fingers to his mouth, and left a small kiss. “It does my heart good to hear such praise from you.”
Her cheeks turned pink, clashing with her red outfit. “Come now, Ashton. Why are you so full of charm this morning?”
She sat in the chair before he leaned on the edge of his desk. “I thought you liked my charm.”
She shrugged. “I do, actually, but the more you pour it on, the more I wonder if it is real or if you are just saying things like that for an alternative purpose.”
“To be quite honest, Nicole, the words flow easily from my mouth whenever you are near.”
She flipped her hand and rolled her eyes. “Now, I know you are exaggerating.”
He laughed. “Are you here alone, or is your cousin with you?”
“My cousin is still in Great Meols. I’m here with a chaperone, but I begged her to run an errand while I came in to visit an old friend.”
His eyebrows lifted. “An old friend. Is that what I am now?”
“Don’t be silly. I had to say something to her to make her not worry.”
“Ah, quick thinking, my dear.” He winked. “So, do you approve of my office?”
Her gaze skipped around the room for a moment. “Considering I never really saw the one in Meols, I don’t have anything to compare this one with. However, I think your office is lovely. Although,” she trailed off as she tapped her finger against her lips. “I believe it needs more decorations.”
“Decorations? Why do you think that?”
“My uncle has an office for his small shipping company, and I’ve been there a few times.” She stood and walked to the closest wall. “I believe you should have a picture of a railway right here.” She held her hands out wide, showing him how large the picture should be. “And over here—” she moved to the next wall, “—should be smaller scenery pictures.” She turned and pointed to the window. “Standing right here should be a potted plant. The sunlight streaming through this window would be wonderful for a plant.” She tilted her head to the side and folded her arms. “I also think you should have curtains on the windows.”
He scratched the back of his head. “Curtains, you say? Will they have to be lace?”
She chuckled. “Not if you don’t want them to be.”
“Are you by chance a decorator? You seem to know what you are talking about.”
“Well, considering my father has moved the family from town to town several times while we were growing up, and my mother died when I was very young, I have been the one to make our house a home. Needless to say, I do make a splendid decorator, if I must say so myself.”
Here was the opening for him to ask one of the questions that had been on his mind lately. He moved off the desk and sat in the empty chair beside her, taking her hand in his where it felt right. “Might I ask how your mother died?”
Her smile gradually disappeared. “From consumption.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He rubbed her fingers. “So, your father moved you around a lot? Was it here in Liverpool?”
“No, it was actually between London and here. Father’s first job was in London, and at that point, we just moved all over, wherever he could find work.”
Confusion fogged his mind. He could tell by how she dressed that she was wealthy, yet she made it sound like her father didn’t have many jobs. “What kind of work does your father do?”
He waited for her answer, and it surprised him how long she paused—as if she was trying to think of an answer. Wouldn’t she know what her father did?
