An Unexpected Encounter ( Half Moon House, Novella 1) (12 page)

He spoke without looking up. “Now, draft a
letter to the chit’s mother. Tell her the girl’s in Town after all
and due back here on Friday at two o’clock. If she wants her, she
can come and get her.”

Lisbeth closed the door behind her. “I’d
prefer to avoid all that, actually.”

Thorpe raised his head. “Abandoned manners as
well as propriety, have you?” He reached for a file. “What do you
want?”

“Only what you’ve just ordered. A letter. It
won’t take much time.”

“I’m not a secretary.” He ran an eye over
her. “Why did you run off? What have you been doing with
yourself?”

She chose to answer only the one question.
“I’ve gone into service.”

His eyebrows rose. “Better than prostitution,
I suppose.” He looked away. “But you would have done better to
trade yourself for the cow.”

“Yes, well, it felt a might too close to
prostitution.”

He shrugged. “You would have had a house of
your own, at least.”

“I might still, with your help. Or as close
as may be.” She explained Mrs. Hollendale’s proposed position and
her need for a recommendation.

“No.” He bent over his desk again. “Good
day.”

Stunned, she asked, “That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“A letter is all I’ve asked for. You know I
did well, running Aster.”

He shrugged.

“My father trusted you to see to my
welfare!”

He set down his pen. “No, he trusted me to
see to your fortune. A different thing entirely, and if you object,
you may take it over yourself once you are one and twenty.” He
frowned. “And I don’t believe your father would wish me to write
that letter.”

“What?” She gasped. “Why not?”

Leaning back in his chair, he fixed her with
a stern glare. “Investing is an art, young lady, and I’m good at it
because I understand imports and exports, economies and
expectations. At the heart, though, business is driven by human
nature. People go into business, they buy, sell, succeed and fail
for very human reasons. I am
great
at investing because I am
a student of human nature. It is the key to my success.” He raised
a brow. “And you stink of desperation.”

She blinked.

“You’ve got the bit in your teeth and you are
running from something. You are reacting, not thinking. Good
decisions are not made when you allow yourself to be spurred by
emotion.” He shook his head. “Far better to dig out the root of the
problem.”

She almost hated him in that moment. Not
because he wouldn’t cooperate, but because he was right. She sank
into a chair, stared into the closest grouping of lights.

She’d left herself at the mercy of a whole
parade of emotions. Grief and embarrassment had been prodding her
today, since the moment Lord Cotwell expressed the exact opposite
of her own wishes. But she’d been reacting to hurt, betrayal and
fear for far longer than that—since she’d heard her mother fall in
with her stepfather’s heinous plans.

The flames danced before her and she felt a
little sick. Hope and passion…and even love. She’d careened about,
bouncing off them all in the last weeks. Perhaps she should just
stop a moment and think. Decide exactly what she wanted, realize
what she could have, and devise a plan to make the most of her
circumstances.

Thirty minutes later she jumped when Thorpe
barked at her. “What? Still here? What are you doing?”

She shook her head. “I think I’m planning a
letter of my own.”

He rolled his eyes. “I said I understood
people, not that I enjoyed their company.” He waved a hand. “Take
yourself off and do your thinking and writing elsewhere.”

She rose, feeling the need to yield to just
one more emotional impulse. On quiet feet she approached him, but
he’d already begun scribbling furiously on a chart in front of him.
Before he could object, she moved in and kissed him smack on his
bald pate.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Get out,” he replied. But closing the door
behind her, she saw him grin and rub his head.

* * *

The closed pocket door mocked him. Edmund sat
in the gathering dark in the study, and for the first time in . . .
oh, since he could remember, his lab did not call to him.

He was waiting for Lisbeth to finish with
Aurelia. He’d spooked her earlier, with his clumsy words. She’d
gone from warm and lively to cold and stiff. Damn him for an ass,
he worried that he’d given her the impression that she wasn’t
wanted, when what he wanted to say was that she deserved so much
more. But he damned her too, as he waited, for being vague about
her ‘business.’ He’d brought Aurelia home, showed her the miniature
giraffe and enjoyed her excitement, but the whole time he’d also
driven himself mad with speculation, wondering if Lisbeth’s wounded
feelings had driven her back to Vickers.

The thought seized his brain, shredded his
gut and set him off on a brooding prowl about the lower rooms.
Finally he stood at the bottom of the staircase, staring up into
darkness, wondering if the nightly routine was finished, if he
would prolong it with an interruption.

Surprising, then, to hear quiet footsteps
come up behind him. He knew before he turned that they belonged to
her.

So easily she reduced him to heat and ache.
It appeared that she’d been prowling the house already dressed for
bed, bundled tight in a long nightrail and wrapper, her hair
loosely braided and pulled forward over her shoulder.

“Good evening, my lord.”

“I was waiting for Aurelia to go to bed
before I came to find you.” It sounded inane. He felt incredibly,
quite strongly, the opposite.

“It was a tiring day. She fell asleep early.”
She ducked her head and fingered her robe. “Excuse my disarray, I
finished up a letter and wanted to be sure it could be posted
without delay.”

“Would you step into the study? There are
some things I’d like to say.”

She hesitated, then lifted her chin. “Yes. I
think perhaps it is a good idea.”

Edmund took the time to light a lamp at his
desk, but he didn’t take the seat behind it. Instead he settled
into the one in front of the desk, where she’d sat not so long ago,
and motioned for her to take its mate.

She sat—and he leapt up again. So many things
writhed inside him, looking for a way out. He had to keep in motion
to contain them.

“I trust your business concluded
satisfactorily?”

Her spine did not touch the back of the
chair. “It concluded . . . unexpectedly.” A hollow laugh escaped
her. “Although after the last weeks I’m sure I should just expect
the unexpected.”

Staring into her mobile face he asked the
question he’d precisely meant not to ask. “Was your business with
Vickers?”

Shock loosened her starch and she slumped,
just smallest bit. “What?”

Her indignation gave him hope. “It’s just
that I was unaware you had any other acquaintance in Town.”

She drew herself straight. Her generous lips
went tight. “There’s much you don’t know of me. More than I had
thought if you believe I would run to James at the first bump—after
the things he said? After finding what he did to Aurelia?”

He should be ashamed, he supposed. Instead he
just felt relief. Because she hadn’t gone to Vickers—and also,
strangely, because he’d been so enervated, felt so strongly
again—even if it was jealousy.

She’d given that to him.

She breathed deep and he wondered at the
price he’d have to pay, but suddenly she exhaled and all of her ire
melted away. “Although that would have been an emotional knee jerk
of a response, would it not?” She sighed. “I suppose I cannot blame
you for expecting me to react in such a way. I’ve done little else
since we met.”

“No, I apologize. I do not mean to criticize
and I’ve no right to expect anything from you.” He softened. “It’s
just that I do believe that you deserve so much. A Season, a
husband, home and children of your own. Vickers won’t give you
those things.” He failed to keep old bitterness from his tone. “He
lies easily and makes promises lightly, and it is easy to make the
mistake of believing in him. I’ve seen women do it.” He clenched
his jaw. “I’ve done it myself.”

“Have you?”

He nodded. Crossed his arms and perched on
the edge of the desk.

Unblinking, she waited. After a moment she
relaxed back into the chair. “I think that what I deserve is to
hear the full story. And I think you need to tell it.”

Alarm spiked. “I assure you, I do not.”

She studied him.

He could feel the stubborn set of his jaw,
knew he must look mulish. He didn’t care. “It’s too racy for a
lady’s ears.” And one of his most humiliating moments.

“I can handle it.”

He shook his head.

“Then I think perhaps we are finished.” She
stood. “And that is perhaps the most unexpected development of
all.” She gave him a small curtsy.

He let her go. All the way through the door
before desire and need won out over pride. “Fine, then.”

She stopped, turned slowly and came back.

He walked over and shut the door, wondering
what the hell he was doing. But she should know the facts that
colored the past as she faced the future. Even if it painted him a
fool.

She resumed her seat. “It was a woman, I
suppose?”

He nodded.

“Was it serious?”

“God, no.” He laughed. “Nothing was serious
back then. Freddy, Vickers and I were young bucks on the Town for
the first time, sharing bachelor’s rooms as we’d shared apartments
at school. We got up to all the usual stupid tricks and I enjoyed
myself, although I already told you, I did not enjoy the same
success with Society ladies as the others did.”

He cocked a smile at her. “Being young, male
and of very little brain, I decided that if I was not going to get
the polish I needed in the
ton
, then I would look for it in
the
demi-mondaine
.”

“Not very laudable, but still, you were
hardly the first to embark in that direction.”

“No. However, I felt the need to prove
myself, so instead of just finding myself a kind, pretty girl from
the ranks of the ladybirds, I decided I must have the prettiest,
most sought-after of them.” He sighed. “Her name was
Marquerite.”

He should be ashamed for speaking of such
things. She should be appalled to hear them, but she only grinned.
“Made a spectacle of yourself, did you?”

“A blazing spectacle,” he said grimly. “I
pursued her with fervent passion, with flowers and champagne, with
wine and song, with theater tickets and gifts. She led me on a
merry chase and I enjoyed the hell out of it. Mostly because she
was a brilliant strategist and let me a little closer every
day.”

“I’d wager the respect of your peers grew
apace with her affection.”

He brushed the hair from his brow. “There was
a bit of back-clapping and hand-shaking when the rumor spread the
fair Marquerite had at last decided to have me. Only Vickers wasn’t
impressed. He did not enjoy my new notoriety. I thought he was
merely waiting for the deed to be done before giving me credit.” He
fell silent, lost to old memories.

“Was he?”

“We’ll never know. I was thrilled the day she
was to consent to be mine, at least as long as I could afford her.
I had the papers drawn up, prepared the love nest, and had only to
wait for her consent. I proposed dinner to Freddy while we waited,
to celebrate. I knocked on Vickers’ door, popped my head in to
invite him—and found him lying underneath the lady in
question.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Those were my sentiments, if not the words I
used.” He’d let his fists express most of his disapproval and
feelings of betrayal. “I’ve never understood it. We’d been the
closest of friends for years, the three of us. Yet Vickers wasn’t
sorry. He wasn’t even quiet about it.”

“Oh, goodness . . . the gossip . . .”

“The
uproar
,” he corrected. “I left
town in disgust.” Only to meet with similar disappointments at
home.

She sat quietly, her lips compressed.

And he sucked in a breath, exhaled deeply.
Watching her, he made the decision to let it go. All the anger and
the loss. He filled the empty places left with images of this tall,
practical girl who had also known this sort of hardship. With
visions of this odd beauty who still managed to live generously,
kiss passionately, but didn’t yet believe in her own worth.

“I cannot be sorry I kissed you.” Rasping, he
boiled the story down to its real point. “But I will be sorry to
see you go. You were born to be a wife, Lisbeth, to make a home and
keep a family happy. I can face giving you up so that you can meet
your destiny, but I cannot abide the idea of losing you to someone
like Vickers.”

Still, she regarded him steadily.

“Will you not say something?”

“I’m listening.” She paused. “And thinking.”
She rose to her feet suddenly. “I think that you should go to the
Ashburn’s party tomorrow.”

He was laying bare his soul and she was going
to return to that old argument?

“It’s important for Aurelia to go. I shall
take her if necessary, but I think that it’s also important for
you
to go.”

“I’m trying to explain how I feel,” he said
stiffly.

“I know. I hear you. I do. But you must begin
to have faith in someone sometime, and if is not to be
here
—” She faltered, visibly worked to gather herself. “You
must begin somewhere.”

“It’s not about faith. My objection is about
not wishing to put myself on display for society’s entertainment
any more.” About not wanting to act the fool again. “I can’t think
that would be good for Aurelia.”

“I
have
been listening, you see. And I
also hear all of the things you haven’t said.” She stepped closer.
“I understand that you don’t trust me.”