“Oh my God!”
Startled by the loud exclamation, Viola turned to find Mr. Lowell standing behind her and staring up.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Gabriella asked as she went to greet him.
He lowered his gaze and addressed Gabriella. “Without a doubt.” His eyes scanned the room, settling on Amelia next, whose presence he acknowledged with a tip of his head, before finally honing in on Viola. His lips tilted and then he smiled, jolting her heart and producing a flutter in the pit of her belly.
Lord, he was handsome! She’d allowed herself to forget the extent of his good looks. But the effort proved impossible when he was standing there in front of her with a roguish gleam in his dark brown eyes and a few stray locks falling haphazardly across his brow.
“Mr. Lowell.” Why on earth did she sound so breathless?
He leaned slightly forward, expectantly waiting for her to continue. Which was difficult when he’d turned her brain to mush. Collecting herself was no easy task, but she was determined to try since the alternative was to surrender and risk getting hurt. So she straightened her spine and squared her shoulders, intent on banishing the effect he was having on her, and asked the only question that seemed to matter right now. “What are you doing here?”
Although she’d managed to bank all emotion beneath a bland expression, Henry had not missed the momentary look of deep appreciation in Viola’s eyes when he’d given her his full attention. She could pretend indifference as much as she liked, but Henry knew she was anything but. He even suspected she was glad to see him, though she’d never admit it. At least not to him.
“I was on my way over to The Red Rose when I spotted the Coventry carriage and decided to look in.” He smiled broadly. “I hope my decision to do so isn’t too much of a bother.”
. “Not at all,” Viola told him after a small but noticeable pause. “You are very welcome.”
He doubted that was completely true but refused to argue the point. Instead, he addressed the burly man still standing by Viola’s side. “Are you the man responsible for this incredible display of craftsmanship?”
“I... um...” the man hedged.
“This is Mr. Tibbs, my foreman,” Viola explained.
Henry tipped his hat in Tibbs’s direction. “Sir, I salute you. Your vision is exemplary!”
Tibbs looked visibly pleased with the compliment. “Thank you. I appreciate that, sir.” He gave a quick nod and promptly left with the excuse of havingsomethingto see to.
As soon as he was gone, Henry took Viola boldly by the arm and led her farther away from Amelia and Gabriella under the pretext of wanting a closer look at the door a group of workers was securing with large brass hinges. “Did you receive the flowers?”
“Yes. Thank you. It was much too much.”
Pleased by her softer tone, he allowed himself to lean slightly closer—so close he could smell the dry scent of starch from her clothes with a hint of something else clinging to her hair. He inhaled again and froze, appreciating the fresh aroma of citrus combined with rich hints of honey and ginger. It was like a tea he wanted to drink or perhaps a cake he would like to sink his teeth into. His skin heated and desire threatened to overwhelm with such force it took every bit of restraint he possessed not to pull her against him and enjoy a small taste.
But to do so would ruin everything. So he tightened his jaw, expelled a deep breath and pulled himself back, adding distance. “As my note explained, the flowers were for the hospital.” He’d known it was the only way he could give them without her refusing the gesture.
“Nevertheless,” she said, still trying to fight him on it. When he raised an eyebrow, challenging her to continue, she relented and eventually smiled. “It was actually very thoughtful of you. I know my apothecary will be especially grateful.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” And then, to add a bit more amusement, he told her slyly, “The alternative was a basket filled with colorful bandages and hand-blown bottles for tincture.”
She laughed and covered her mouth to stifle the sound, her bright eyes peeking out from behind the tips of her fingers. Lowering them slowly, she dared to ask, “Really?”
Henry nodded and grinned while savoring how pretty she was when happiness shone in her eyes. If only there was a way to make this moment last forever. But then his gaze dropped to her lips and his chest contracted, leaving him short of breath and tightly strung with the uncanny need to claim her.
She must have noticed, because she turned away quickly and went to join her friends, whose expressions were marked by frank curiosity. Chastising himself for allowing desire to show when he knew it would work to his disadvantage, Henry muttered a curse before schooling his features.
“Ladies,” he said, crossing the floor with the purpose of a man who refused to give up. “I would like to invite you and your husbands to dine with me tomorrow evening at my club.” To ensure there was no misunderstanding, he addressed Viola directly, “You are welcome as well, Duchess. Indeed, I fervently hope you accept.”
Before too much weight could be placed on this remark, he gave his attention to Amelia and Gabriella as if their attendance was just as important to him as Viola’s. He held his breath and waited expectantly for them to reply, hoping it would be in the affirmative. If he was going to stand the smallest chance of securing Viola’s attendance, he would need their agreement.
“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea,” Gabriella said. Henry exhaled a sigh of relief. “Raphe has been talking about visiting your club for a while now. Tomorrow is as good an opportunity as any.”
“Thomas and I have no other plans. Dining out at The Red Rose sounds like a lovely diversion,” Amelia added.
Everyone looked at Viola in anticipation of her response. She hesitated, and Henry’s heart proceeded to pound.Say yes. Please say yes. He needed this—some way to see her in a more intimate setting—the means by which to romance her.
“I’m sorry,” she began, “but I—”
