“It is… difficult to explain,” she said.
But Mr. Hatcher bestowed another smile and waited.
“I cannot say that I enjoy the heat,” she added, “and there is far too much sun for my liking—”
“That is something I have never heard someone say,” he replied with a chuckle.
Nora gave him a little wave of the hand. “I would rather be chilled than overheated. It is far easier to resolve the former than the latter.”
With a considering nod, Mr. Hatcher motioned for her to continue.
“It is a slower way of life,” she said, searching for the right phrasing. “The cities are such a bustling whirl, but my happiest moments were sitting in a cafe, overlooking a beach with a drink and a book on hand.”
“And you preferred that?”
Lifting her novel, Nora gave him a wry smile. “You think a lady who carries a yellowback in her reticule and snubs a ballroom full of people in favor of the fictional kind prefers city life?”
Shaking his head, he said, “I suppose not.”
With a sigh, Nora added. “I suppose it is less about the location than the atmosphere. If I have a lovely view and a quiet afternoon, I am content. There is a certain ease to it. A sense that one might simply… remain where one is for a time without being hurried along.”
Mr. Hatcher considered that. “That sounds rather appealing. I find my days only growing busier and busier.”
“And what is it that occupies so much of your time?” she asked.
“I build telegraph systems for the family business, Hatcher & Byrnes,” he said.
Nora’s breath left her lungs, the movement causing her shoulders to sag as her mind leapt to conclusions her heart wished to ignore. Projects like that meant investors. Finance. Bankers. The knowledge pressed upon her, dulling the lightness that had begun to take hold, leaving in its place a heaviness that settled low and stubborn, refusing to be ignored.
Mr. Hatcher was just another mercenary gentleman.
Chapter 6
“Ihave heard of it.” Nora considered that. “But I had thought you were in imports.”
“That is our sister company, Byrnes & Co.,” explained Mr. Hatcher. “My father and Silas Byrnes started it some decades ago and eventually expanded into infrastructure—transportation, housing, waterworks, and the like. A few years ago, it was decided to split the company between the two industries, with the Byrnes maintaining the former and the Hatchers overseeing the latter.”
For a brief moment, she remained very still, her fingers tightening upon the cover of her book as though she might hold fast to what had been.
Yet the gentleman did not speak of prospects or position, nor did he steer the conversation toward her father, his company, or money of any sort. When he mentioned his profession, it was without flourish, offered plainly and then set aside, as though it required no further attention. But Nora knew better than to trust a charming and handsome gentleman, who wouldn’t have granted a lady like her attention in her prime—let alone when she was rushing headlong past it.
Mr. Hatcher’s hands remained where they ought, never straying into the subtle touches that might claim unduefamiliarity. His attention did not linger beyond what the moment required, nor did his gaze settle upon her with any weight that might suggest possession or intent. If there was admiration there, Nora could not see it.
Even his tone, when it softened, did so without insistence. There was no layering of compliment upon compliment, no careful shaping of his words to draw her nearer. The charm remained, certainly, but it was more akin to what one offered a friend or sister. Nora could easily believe this meeting was naught but happenstance—if not for his profession. Or the gentleman watching them from across the room.
Standing some distance away, yet close enough to spy, the fellow’s attention fixed upon the pair, only darting away if her eyes drifted too close to him. Despite being far broader in build and darker in coloring than Mr. Hatcher, there was something about the stranger’s features that made her think he might be a sibling.
Had he trotted out his brother like a show pony to entice Miss Eden? A bit of bait with which to lure in an unsuspecting fish who had been simply minding her own business and enjoying a novel? What was their game?
Nora’s hands rested lightly atop the book in her lap, her fingers stilling as she considered that. Clearly, this was a calculated approach, yet there was nothing overtly romantic about this Mr. Hatcher’s manner. If there was design in this meeting, it was a curious one. Subtle to the point of invisibility. And yet, Nora could not dismiss the instinct that kept her alert whilst Mr. Hatcher attempted to put her at ease.
Very well. If this was a game, Nora would not sit quietly and be managed.
Lifting her gaze slowly, she gave him a smile that held a note of invitation. “Had I known such a charming gentleman wouldseek me out this evening, I should never have thought to bring a book at all.”
The words settled between them, light in their content yet meaning thick in her tone, and a man of Mr. Hatcher’s charisma was bound to know the unspoken signs of flirtation. For a moment, he did not answer.
“You do me a great deal of credit, Miss Eden,” he said at last, though his voice held the slightest hint of uncertainty. “But I am happy to know that my company improved the evening.”
