“I’m sorry to interrupt, Your Grace, but Lord Southerby—”
“Good God.” Lawrence strode over and snatched up the letter, suddenly realizing that Southerby’s footman had been awaiting his response for nearly an hour.
The earl’s seaside development venture was almost fully financed, and he needed to know soon if Lawrence was able to be a founding partner. He had been about to respond when Chloe’s unexpected arrival had caused him to forget everything but her.
“Please have the earl’s footman relay the message that I am not yet ready but will be before the end of the season.”
“As you please.” Hastings bowed and left.
Lawrence turned to Chloe. “I’m so sorry. If it were up to me, I’d spend the rest of the evening showing you every piece in my collection, but I’m afraid I’ve a debate tomorrow in the House of Lords that I must prepare for.”
She gnawed her lip as if biting back words, then said in a rush, “I could help…if you wished.”
Her voice was so soft as to be barely audible, but the look in her eyes matched what must have been the expression on his own face when debating whether to risk showing her the library: hungry. Hopeful. Terrified of rejection.
“You don’t have to let me,” she said quickly. “I’m a woman—”
“And no doubt brilliant. I’m a man used to doing everything on my own, because that is how it has always been.” His voice scratched. “Perhaps it needn’t be so tonight.”
Her shocked gaze held his. “That means…that means yes?”
He offered her his arm and tried not to think about how right she felt at his side. “Do you think your great-aunt can find us if we remove to my study?”
“She’s probably asleep on a sofa.” Chloe’s eyes twinkled as she leaned in and lowered her voice. “She’s a dreadful chaperone.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” he replied dryly. There was nothing he was more grateful for than Great-Aunt Wynchester’s ineptitude in that regard. “Shall I have a maid find her and deliver the news of where we’ve gone off to?”
The embers of the fire crackled. Or perhaps it was the air sizzling with possibility.
“That depends.” Chloe ran a finger lightly down his chest. “Can you guarantee there will be no kissing?”
He placed his hand over his thudding heart. “On my honor, I can swear no such thing.”
“Then we definitely shouldn’t tell her.” She gave a saucy wink. “Just in case.”
19
As nonplussed as Chloe was that Lawrence had accepted her offer of help—and as determined as she was to prove herself useful—her feet slowed as she followed him out of the library.
Thiswas the room. Puck was in here; she could feel him. As soon as she and her sister were together out of earshot, Chloe would tell Tommy to look closer at the library.
When Lawrence turned to lock the door before heading to his office, Chloe asked no questions. She wanted him to think her primary interest lay in Parliament, not in his art collection.
That it was kept under lock and key was no matter. Tommy had her own copy. From what she gathered during previous promenades, the housekeeper had not returned from holiday, and the other two maids were busier than usual, taking up the slack. Which meant Tommy could slip in and out of the library with no one the wiser.
The idea thatPuck & Familymight return home before the end of the season gave Chloe’s stomach an odd twist. She shoved the unwelcome sense of sorrow away.
Lawrence led her into a warm, cozy study. Late afternoon sun streamed through the windows. “You can take off your bonnet if you’ve tired of wearing it.”
She would never tire of it. “I like my bonnet.”
His dimple flashed. “Then by all means. Please take a seat.”
A large, comfortable-looking, worn leather chair stood on the far side of a mahogany Pembroke table he appeared to be using as an escritoire. Two armchairs, presumably for guests, sat on the other side. Chloe chose the one with better light.
She wanted to burn every moment of this evening into her memory.
Rather than walk round to his chair, Lawrence sat down beside her and began rotating the piles of documents so that the text faced in their direction.
