Page 9 of If a Lady Lingers

So she couldn’t tell Whitby to stop visiting.

Nor could she tell him to stop bringing her gifts. Besides the fact that she didn’t want to offend him as a client or be a presumptuous goose for assuming he wanted to court her, she had no idea what to make of them. These weren’t the normal gifts a man would give to a woman. Not flowers or ribbons or little things for her hair—but a new sketch pad, a set of high-quality drafting pencils, a book by Palladio that she’d coveted for years but simply could not afford, an unusual door knocker in the shape of a turtle. A door knocker, for heaven’s sake! What man gave a woman gifts like these?

Whitby did. And every one of them unique to her and her interests.

“When will we start on the interiors?” he asked, leaning back against the table beside her and crossing his arms.

“When we have walls,” she answered dryly.

He cheekily arched a brow at her. “I mean when do we start discussing them? Because I can’t wait to hear all of your ideas.” Seriousness suddenly gripped his face as a thought struck him. His emotions were as easy to read as a book. “But we’ll keep them secret, all right? I don’t want Mariah to know what special things we’re planning.”

He said that as casually as if he and Daisy were best friends who often conspired together like allies instead of architect and client. As if he were simply enamored with her and could give her his complete trust.

But Daisy wasn’t quite so sure of him.

Sometimes, she didn’t know exactly how to take his boisterousness and unchecked mannerisms, his flamboyant clothes and hats, or how he’d often break into laughter over the smallest things. He was the exact opposite of her, someone who didn’t like attention cast upon her and certainly didn’t seek it out.

After spending so much time with Whitby, she could honestly admit that she was growing to appreciate him…but would she ever growusedto him? He didn’t walk; he skipped. He didn’t say hello; he bellowed his greetings. He didn’t settle for average; he delighted in every bit of life, no matter how seemingly insignificant. And always,alwayshe wore that big grin that lit up not only his face but every place he went. He reminded her of the fireworks at Vauxhall—loud, bright…occasionally alarming.

Right now, she certainly didn’t need any of that in her life. Yet she also knew she’d miss him when he was gone from it.

“We’ll work on the interior decorations last,” she answered. “After all, we can’t really decide about plasterwork, mantels, and upholsteries until the builders are finished and we can step inside the rooms to gain a true feel for the spaces.”

But, oh, what plans she had for them when they did! Special skylights and windows, beautiful gas lamps, a wonderful new stove for the kitchens with a built-in boiler so the house would have hot water on demand—all of it modern with the latest technologies, the most thoughtful touches throughout. There wouldn’t be another townhouse like it anywhere on the square. Heavens, in all of London!

“And speaking of walls and ceilings…how are your two little brothers doing at Harrow?”

Daisy blinked at that rapid change of topics. “What on earth do Benjamin and William have to do with walls and ceilings?”

He shrugged. “We were talking about interiors, and I thought of oak-paneled walls.”

“Andthatmade you think of my brothers?” Would she ever understand this man’s thought process?

“That made me think of Harrow which has terrific old oak-paneled walls and beamed ceilings that date back to Queen Elizabeth’s reign. Quite remarkable, actually. Three of my brothers went there, too.”

“I think you have an endless supply of brothers,” she mumbled as she turned back to the plans and rolled them up.

“My father seems to think so.” He grinned. “But there are only six.”

Having to be a mother to Ben and Will as well as their sister was enough of a trial; Daisy couldn’t imagine having to suffer the antics of even more boys in one family. They were just babes when Mama passed, with Daisy only ten herself. Thank heavens they had Mrs. Jones! That was why keeping the boys in school—and in one of the best in England—was so important to her. There were other schools in London that were far less expensive, ones they could attend while living at home, too. But Daisy wanted to do right by their mother’s memory and give them the best education possible, and that meant sending them to Harrow. She would never forgive herself if she faltered in that.

“Are your brothers anything like you?” She wrapped a piece of string around the roll and deftly tied it. “Do they share your personality and appearance?”

“Heavens, no!” He seemed aghast at the idea. “I’m so much more boring than they are.”

Her eyes widened. If he was boring in comparison…Goodness.

“And the other day I was thinking aboutmybrothers who had gone to Harrow, how the three of them were always up to their necks in one kind of trouble or another, how Father seemed always on the road between Harrow and Eton to see to whatever predicament they’d most recently gotten themselves caught up in, which led me to think aboutyourbrothers and if they were faring better at school than mine had…”

She sighed patiently at the length of his story. Well, itwasher own fault, she supposed. She had asked for an explanation of why he’d been thinking of Ben and Will, especially since he’d not even met them.

“And so I inquired after them to the headmaster.”

She wheeled around, stunned. “You spoke to their headmaster?”

“When I ran into him the other day at Somerset House.” His expression grew somber. “He said you’re having trouble paying their tuition.”

Embarrassment flooded through her, heating her face all the way out to the tips of her ears. She reached to put her pencil back into its case before she snapped it in two. She had no idea which man to be angrier with—Whitby for interfering or the headmaster for gossiping. “He had no right to openly discuss—”