Compared with the crimson, the cream looked impossibly dull and uninteresting. Still, Emily held it up to her face and considered the option. “No,” she admitted after a second. “I do not like it.” Not now that the bright red fabric was stuck in her head.
“Why not have another look around then. Perhaps a different color will strike your fancy, like green or blue?” When Emily failed to find another color she liked, her mother reached for the purple silk that Emily had initially selected. “I think you ought to ignore my opinion since it has been wrong so often before. If this is the fabric you like, then that is the one you should choose.”
Except it no longer held appeal. In fact, as Emily considered it once again, it did look too dark against her skin. She glanced across at the crimson silk neatly resting on a nearby shelf and made her decision. Twenty minutes later, after deciding on a pattern, having measurements taken and offering to pay the dressmaker double for expedited service, Emily excited the dressmaker’s together with her mother and went to meet Lord Griffin.
They found him at the tailor where he was just finishing up his order of evening attire. “It ought to be ready by Friday morning,” he said, addressing both Emily and her mother.
“Just like our gowns,” Emily said.
He smiled. “A convenience to be sure since we shall be able to pick up everything during one trip.”
“Speaking of trips,” Georgina said, “I want to propose that we offer the cottage at Clearview to my coachman. Having him at the house will make it easier for him to take us wherever we need to go at only a moment’s notice.”
“But Lord Griffin is staying there, Mama.”
“Yes. And that was both correct and necessary when it was just the two of you. But now that I am here, I see no reason why we cannot move Lord Griffin to one of the bedchambers inside the house.”
A shiver crept over Emily’s skin. “But—”
“He is a duke’s brother, Emily. An aristocratic gentleman. We cannot ask him to remain in that tiny cottage, and we certainly can’t ask my coachman to stay in the house instead. That would be highly irregular.”
“I suppose so,” Emily hedged with a quick glance directed at the only man in the world who could make her grow hot with a single look.
His expression gave no indication of what he was thinking, which wasn’t very helpful at all. Especially when her own stomach was tying itself into knots at the idea of having him sleep so close to her.
“Then it is settled?” Georgina asked.
“Perhaps the coachman could remain at the inn,” Emily suggested.
“You know that would be both impractical and a neglect of the coachman’s responsibilities toward me as his employer. So unless Lord Griffin is opposed..?”
“I would happily agree to move out of the cottage and into the house so that you may keep your coachman nearby, Mrs. Howard.”
Emily turned her head just enough to catch Lord Griffin’s eye as she mouthed the word, “Traitor.”
He responded with a roguish smirk, which only increased her discomfort. Especially since she failed to see his motive for bowing to her mother’s suggestion without the slightest protest. It made no sense for him to do so. Not when he was supposed to be avoiding an attachment.
“Imanagedto purchase the tools I require to fix your clock,” Lord Griffin told her later when they returned to Clearview.
After taking lunch at the inn while they waited for the coachman to pack his things and ready the carriage, they’d enjoyed riding back to the house instead of walking.
“Thank you,” she said as she followed him into the dining room where all the clock parts were now spread out with what appeared to be organized precision. Emily blinked. “Oh dear.”
“You must not worry,” he told her quickly. “I know what I’m doing and will put everything back together in perfect order.”
Emily moved further into the room so she could better study the array of cogs, wheels, springs, and miniscule screws. “That is not my concern.” Heavens. Her voice was struggling to form words. The emotion she felt, brought on by gratitude, was almost too much to bear.
“Then what is troubling you?” The question was gently spoken. It also brought him closer to where she stood, spiking her awareness of him. Her entire body tingled in response to the rich scent of sandalwood clinging to his person.
His hand settled softly against her lower back in a manner no doubt meant to offer comfort. Instead, it made Emily catch her breath as heat erupted inside her. “I did not realize how much trouble this would be for you,” she said, the words scratching her parched throat while she struggled to stay upright. To not lean into his hand. To not ask for more.
His hand fell away, leaving a chill in its place. But he remained by her side, so close she could feel the air shifting between them as he moved. “Fixing this clock is not an inconvenience.” The low voice with which he spoke swept through her like butterflies riding on a breeze. “I am happy to do it. Especially since I know how much it would mean to you.”
“My grandmother always understood me. I loved her enormously and wished she’d been there for me to confide in as I grew older.” A sting brought moisture to Emily’s eyes, and she walked a few paces, adding distance to help hide her tears. “But she died right before my first season and this clock...”
“You need not explain.”
“I don’t think I can,” she told him, her voice a bit shakier than she had hoped.
