But instead she heard shuffling. A moment later, the door was flung open, and there was Mr. Harrison. He wore only his shirtsleeves with no cravat. His hair tumbled forward over his head like he’d been running his hands through it.
The moment he saw them, his eyes widened. “Miss Shroud, Mrs. Tucker, what are you doing here?”
Lucy blinked and quickly glanced at the room behind him. That is all it was. One room, small and cramped. The only furniture in the room was a bed and a wooden chair, and neither looked comfortable. The only thing that brought Lucy any joy at seeing her fiancé’s living conditions was the back wall. It was covered by a makeshift bookshelf lined with books. But no amount of books would justify this room to Lady Bridgewater. She would weep if she saw it. “What areyedoing here?” She echoed his question back at him.
“I live here.”
Mrs. Tucker stepped back a few feet as if she wanted to give the two of them privacy. Lucy was grateful for it. She couldn’t believe the scene in front of her. The man had an estate in Bridgewater, and a townhome in London, and this is where he chose to live? “That still doesn’t answer my question.”
He had a book in his hand, and behind him lay books, not only on the shelves, but stacked near the bed and chair. He had more books than even Mr. Garvis had in his shop. And in his hand?The Illustrated Arctic News.
Mr. Harrison looked as flustered as she felt. “I’m reading.”
“’Tisn’t what I meant. Why do ye live here, in this tiny room, with a door you have to duck your head to get through?”
He shifted his jaw to the right. “Because it was available when I moved into town, and all my books are here.”
She shook her head. She was never going to understand him. “And your books have always been here, have they?”
“No, I’ve bought most of them since starting to work with Mr. Bennion.”
“’Tis no wonder the Garvis family loves ye.”
Mr. Harrison shrugged. “What are you doing here, Miss Shroud? If you came for a social call, I presume you can see that I’m not at all set up for one, with only one chair.”
“Nay, I didn’t come for a call. Someone mentioned where ye lived, and I wanted to see it.” The initial shock of seeing his small quarters was wearing off. The stacks of books and table with a small oil lamp started shifting into something less austere, and more…homelike. She tried to picture herself living in a room like this, and astonishingly, she could. It was small and cramped, but each evening Mr. Harrison would be able to visit other lands and entertain himself with the characters in his books. His choice of living quarters was shocking for his station, but not necessarily shocking for the man she’d come to know over the past few weeks.
He ran a hand through his hair, which did nothing to tame it. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing his corded forearms. Without a cravat, the top of his shirt lay open, exposing the hard lines of his collar bones. This little room was growing on her by the minute. He cleared his throat and she begrudgingly dragged her eyes back to his. The hand that was in his hair now clenched the edge of the door, just above the door handle. “Why would you want to see where I lived?”
Lucy smiled at him. There were so many things about her he didn’t know.
CHAPTER 18
Matthew staredat the woman in front of him. She’d done something different with her hair and it reminded him of the way women did their hair during the London Season. She wore the same dress she’d worn yesterday, when he’d helped her down from the cart. The feel of his hands on her waist was etched into his memory.
Mrs. Tucker was with her, but she’d stepped into the recesses of the alley the moment he’d opened the door, so Miss Shroud might as well have been alone.
She looked magnificent, even if she had just inspected his room with a type of voyeuristic shock and horror. She smiled at him now, though, and having her here, in his space, with her warm smile, sent warning bells blaring in the back of his mind. She shouldn’t be here, especially not after she’d admitted to finding him charming. Miss Shroud was playing with fire, and he couldn’t allow her to get burned.
She tipped her head to one side, and it was so becoming, he had to grit his teeth. Then she took half a step closer to him. “Ye’re a puzzle I’m struggling to understand, and I thought, perhaps, by seein’ where ye lived, I’d come to understand ye better.”
Add that to the long list of things Miss Shroud had said to him that would keep him up at night. He raised a hand to his hip and put on the sternest face he could muster. “Well, have you?”
“Not at all.” He resisted the urge to tidy up the few books he had left on the floor as her eyes roamed his little room. “Except, I do believe ye about yer love of readin’ now. Apparently ye can live without a window, but not without…” She narrowed her eyes on one of the books he had left on the floor. “Martin Chuzzlewit.”
He smiled at her. “I’m not sure how anyone could live withoutMartin Chuzzlewit.”
Lucy smiled back. “Will ye come to the town square and dance with me?”
Matthew hadn’t thought this visit could have gotten any stranger. But now, she was asking him to dance? “No.”
“Why not?” She opened her eyes wide. “Don’t ye know how to dance?”
He’d taken years of dancing lessons. No one in Fenswallow would be able to dance as well as he. “I can dance.”
She nodded as if she understood. “But ye dance poorly.”
“No, I don’t dance poorly, I dance quite well, but I won’t be joining in the festivities tonight.”
