“You look exhausted,” Mr. Lowell said, his voice creeping over her skin and doing delicious things to her insides.
Opening her eyes, she saw he was closer than she had expected. A smile pulled at his lips. “In a good way,” she admitted.
He leaned toward her, and for the first time in five years, she felt no aversion to the idea of being kissed. In fact, she believed it might be rather pleasant, if Mr. Lowell were the one to kiss her, that was.
Warning bells started sounding in her head, and she instantly straightened herself and moved past him. “I should get back to the hospital.”
“Then inviting you for dinner is not an option?” he asked, catching up with her in a few easy strides.
She glanced up at him and drew to a halt in the foyer. “I’m afraid not, but thank you for asking.”
Looking past her, he seemed to consider the traffic out in the street, visible through the open door. “Perhaps you’ll allow me to escort you to the grand opening on Friday instead?” He looked at her with warmth in his eyes, and her breath caught.
“As much as I’d like to accept, I worry it might give people the wrong impression.”
He nodded and stuck his hands in his pocket. “You worry they’ll think we’re involved.”
“I’m sorry, but I need to make the best impression possible.” Oh dear. That came out horribly wrong. “You know my own reputation concerns me. I have to put my best foot forward on Friday in order to encourage people to purchase a membership. If they think you and I—”
“It has always bothered me, how much we care about the opinion of strangers.” He breathed a heavy sigh. “I understand your reasoning, Viola, as sorry as I am that it can’t be different.”
Unable to speak, she gave a nod of thanks accompanied by a small smile. If only he was the reprobate he made himself out to be so turning him down wouldn’t be so horribly hard. Instead, he was quite possibly the nicest man she’d ever met, and as she said good-bye and walked away, it occurred to her that she’d been wrong about everything right from the start. It wasn’t that he wasn’t good enough for her, but rather that he was perfect in every way. If she could only overcome her own fears in order to give him the chance he deserved.
Chapter 14
Deciding to send his carriage ahead without him, Henry started walking back to his house. Moving was vital right now, the need for exercise overwhelming. Damn, but he wished he’d been wiser in his youth. But he’d thought himself smart, and the future had always been something he’d worry about later. Well, later was here now, and because of the rumors he’d deliberately created and spread, he’d wrecked his chance of forming an attachment to the most incredible woman he’d ever met.
Bloody hell!
Increasing his pace, he listened to the click of his heels against the pavement while reflecting on the day he and Viola had spent together. He’d enjoyed her company immensely and missed her now that she was no longer with him. Aware of her reluctance to form an attachment, he’d known he might be pushing his luck by suggesting she join him for dinner, but he’d been reluctant for their time together to end.
As he ought to have expected, she’d refused the invitation, along with his offer to escort her on Friday. Clenching his fists, he expelled an agitated breath. He’d ruined his own reputation in an effort to push women away only to find that the one he actually wanted did not want him in return.
A humorless smile pulled at his lips. Not true. She did want him. He could see it in her stormy eyes whenever she looked his way, but there was a struggle going on inside her—a tug of wills that held her back. Perhaps if he could acquire just an ounce of respectability, this would change?
He hoped so, but doing so took time. Changing Society’s opinion of a person from bad to good was not as easy as changing it from good to bad. For now he resolved to continue as he had by being Viola’s friend, listening to her, helping her and letting her come to him.
So he set his course for The Red Rose. There was work to be done there. The advertisements he meant to place in theMayfair Chroniclenext week would not design themselves. But his intention to be productive was briefly disrupted when he arrived and saw Yates coming toward him in the foyer.
“Where have you been?” Grinning, Yates gave him a quick once-over. “I’m guessing that’s either confectioner’s sugar from the bakery down the street or dust from only God knows where.”
“It’s from Viola Cartwright’s new place of business.” Henry stepped aside to let a few guests pass. “She needed a bit of help arranging a few things.”
“I bet she did,” Yates said with a smile too wide for his face.
Henry frowned. “It’s not like that. There was a lamp.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Muttering an oath, Henry brushed past his friend and continued toward his office. When he sensed Yates was following him, he added, “She’s a respectable woman. There’s nothing going on between us.”
“Is that because she knows you’re a scoundrel?”
“I believe so,” Henry said with resignation. He led Yates into his office and poured them each a drink. He handed one to his friend.
“You could reform, you know,” Yates suggested, and took a sip of his brandy.
“I don’t really need to, truth is.”
