Despite the cotton gloves she wore, poking her forefinger into the hole allowed her to feel his firm torso and the top ofhis hip, and to determine the thread of the waistcoat seam had merely broken. A few minutes with a needle and thread, and it would be fixed, good as new.
She had only pressed her palm against his arousal because the knuckle of her forefinger had been caught in the seam when she tried to pull it out, so her hand had no where else to go.
The feel of the hard ridge of his manhood beneath her fingers had been unnerving.
Unexpected.
For some reason, it had been thrilling, though. To know that he—or at least his body—could be aroused in her presence.
Even if he didn’t know who she was.
The thought had a sob robbing her of breath. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat and failed.
“There’s no need to cry.”
Isabella stared at Callum, her first thought that he was terribly out of focus. She blinked several times, which sent tears cascading down her cheeks. “I didn’t know I was,” she murmured.
The waiter appeared with their order. When he placed her tea on the table, he noticed her wet cheeks and directed a censorious glare at Callum before slamming his coffee in front of him.
“Hey, it’s notmyfault,” Callum said, before the waiter stalked off.
“He didn’t recognize me,” Isabella said softly.
“What did you say?”
“Daniel didn’t recognize me,” she repeated. “I thought sure if I wore a yellow gown, he would know it was me.”
Pouring milk into his coffee, Callum dipped his head. “Well, in his defense, Izzy, you don’t look like you used to,” he said. When she expressed confusion, he added, “Well, your face isclean, as is your dress,” he added. “You used to look as if you...” He paused. “Rolled in the dirt,” he finished lamely.
“That’s because I slept on the floor of our cottage. Thedirtfloor,” she said on a sigh. “I was too young to know any better. Father never told us to wash up in the morning.”
“You didn’t have a looking glass?” he teased.
She was suddenly back in the cottage in Tideswell, glancing into her parent’s room. Her father had kept it exactly as it was when her mother was alive, her dressing table still adorned with her comb, hairbrush, and cosmetics. Isabella might have used the mirror above the dressing table if her father hadn’t forbidden her from entering the small bedchamber. “I didn’t have one,” she admitted. But it’s not as if we grew up poor, because we weren’t?—”
“Your clothing suggested otherwise,” he interrupted.
“Father didn’t know how to be a mother,” she murmured.
Callum nodded his understanding. “Truth be told, I didn’t recognize you at first, either,” he admitted, before lifting the coffee cup to his lips. “You’re... pretty now. As is your gown.”
Isabella sniffled. “Thank you, I think,” she replied, stirring her tea. “I made the gown. I’m a seamstress, and I am hoping there is more work for me here in Edinburgh than there was in Tideswell.” As for why she hadn’t remained in England and moved to one of the cities there—she had considered York—she discovered she wouldn’t be allowed to do her own banking without the assistance of a male relative. In Scotland, she could open an account and access her funds on her own, although it was recommended she at least be in the company of a man when she did so.
She had thought to ask Daniel if he might be that man, but their brief reunion hadn’t gone as planned. Any thought of blunt and banking had fled her head at the mere sight of him.
Did women in Edinburgh fall prostrate at his feet and beg him for his attentions? Bow as he passed them on the street, treating him as if he were a god?
He could probably set up an exhibit featuring only him in Inverleith Park and charge admission!
She pushed the plate of biscuits in Callum’s direction. “Would you like one?”
“I would,” he replied. “Thank you.” He took the Dutch biscuit and ate half of it in one bite.
“Daniel thought you employed me to pay a call on him. He thought I was an actress.”
Callum scoffed softly before eating the rest of his biscuit. “As if I have the funds for such an endeavor,” he said, grinning.
“I told him he was an idiot for thinking it,” she went on, watching to see how her childhood friend would react.
