With my sincerest apologies,
Isabella
Daniel furrowed his brows as he reread the missive, a multitude of emotions clashing until he didn’t know what he should think or how he would respond.
He had a thought to be vindictive. Force her to marry him on the morrow—Lord McDonald had intimated he could see to an expedited civil ceremony—but he quickly set aside the idea. He wasn’t sure he could afford a wife, even if he economized—and even if McDonald paid his invoice as quickly as he suggested he might.
Where would they live?
He had a thought to simply ignore the missive. Pretend he hadn’t read it. Act as if it had never been delivered.Ignorance is bliss.
Except it wasn’t.
How could it be when he realized how his body was reacting to the idea of marriage toher. He couldn’t recall a single time since his later years in school that he experienced such a visceral reaction to just the thought of a woman.
His last thought was to simply acknowledge her apology in the manner it was intended. She had been overcome. She was sorry.
I’ll do whatever I must to correct this most unfortunate situation.
For a moment after reading the words ‘unfortunate situation’, he felt a hint of disappointment.
If she saw it as an ‘unfortunate situation’, did that mean she regretted kissing him? For a reason other than the gossip that had everyone thinking him a rake?
Had his kiss been that bad?
It wasn’t as if he’d had any experience in the matter. Kissing was an intimate act. More so than sexual congress. His recollection of their kiss had him thinking it a rather pleasant experience. He would have liked a bit more... notice. A bit of warning, so he could have prepared. So he could have angled his head in the correct position. So he would have known where to place his hands.
Although, until he had actually experienced it, he wouldn’t have known such things.
Without realizing it, he was pantomiming the very actions he was imagining. He was also unaware Arthur was regarding him with an expression of confusion. When his secretary cleared his throat, Daniel immediately straightened and sounded a curse.
“Did you wish to send a reply, sir?” Arthur asked.
Daniel shook his head. “I think I should answer this in person,” he murmured. He glanced back at his drafting table, deciding the best light of the day had already passed. A candle lamp or two would be required for him to continue his work this afternoon.
Perhaps it wouldn’t rain on the morrow.
“I’ll need my topcoat,” he said as he refolded the missive and stuffed it into his waistcoat pocket.
Arthur nodded and moved to pull the garment from the peg near his desk. “Should I hail a hackney for you, sir?”
Daniel shook his head as he unrolled his shirt sleeves and secured the buttons at the cuffs. “I’ll walk,” he replied, donning both his topcoat and his greatcoat. He pulled on his gloves and said, “His lordship said he will sign the contract you sent. You’re to bill him for the work I’ve done so far on his house plans. See to an invoice, will you? Four elevations, one ground floor plan.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If I’m not back by six o’clock, lock up the office and take your leave.”
Nodding, Arthur rushed back to his desk. He watched as his employer exited the office, a look of uncertainty crossing his face.
Either he had made a huge mistake in following the instructions of the young lady who had paid a call earlier that week—and he would lose his position as a result—or he had assisted in seeing to it his employer married sooner rather than later.
At least the judge was on his side.
CHAPTER 7
DISCUSSING A PROPOSITION
Ahalf-hour later
