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Walking with the dogs, she would fall into a daydream of a future with him, smiling at the notion that she was better at running his estate than he was. He would admit it. Indeed, that was part of his charm. He had no difficulty doing so. On the other hand, he was more at ease in the world. He could show her the way to go on among notables like Lord Macklin, who still intimidated her a little. And so they would pass their days. Then there were the nights, of course. She couldn’t leave out the nights. Dreams of his touch haunted her sleep. She would happily spend her life with Lord Whitfield. Daniel.
At this point, her fantasy always came tumbling back to earth. No one was talking about marriage. The idea, which would have been implicit had they met at a round oftonparties, had never arisen.Hewasn’t thinking of it.Sheshouldn’t be. And even if he did, it was impossible. Yoked to her social ruin, Whitfield would be pitied at best, rejected at worst. Penelope knew how it felt to have acquaintances edge away, turn their backs. She’d had a bitter taste of that when she moved out of her father’s house. She wouldn’t bring such a fate down on him. And was she to give him his cottage back as a dowry? Every feeling revolted. She needed to become accustomed to the life she had, rather than some castle in the air. If she worked at it, she would find contentment in her lot. And she wouldnotyearn. She refused to yearn!
On the following day, however, the object of these reveries came to see her.
“I beg your pardon,” Whitfield said when she opened the front door.
He clearly hadn’t expected her to answer his knock. But Kitty had walked to the nearby farm for milk and eggs. Foyle had taken the gig into the village to look for some bit of ironmongery he needed. Penelope no longer had the scope, or the staff, to turn away visitors with the fiction that she was notat home. The pretense would be ridiculous without the insulating layers of a great house. No, he was here, and they were alone together.
Whitfield strode into her parlor and stood before the fireplace, slapping his riding gloves against his leg. As usual, the room seemed smaller with him in it. His energetic presence filled the space, even as it eased an ache in Penelope’s heart. A joy that she shouldn’t have allowed to take root expanded in her chest. She was so very glad to see him. Dangerously glad.
Daniel shifted from one foot to the other. It had been only a few days since they met, but he’d missed her dreadfully. The estate office seemed dusty and vacant without her stimulating presence. The construction project had lost its savor. He’d had to see her. And now he didn’t know what to say. The memory of their last encounter vibrated between them. He’d made a mistake. And yet he’d done the right thing. He was having difficulty reconciling those two facts. Of course he’d had to refuse when she’d offered to stay. No tinge of dishonor could be allowed to touch her. But oh, how he wanted her! He’d thought of nothing else ever since. One part of him called the rest an idiot for missing the chance to make her his own.
She stood there looking at him. The lovely lines of her face and form were so familiar now. She’d become an integral part of his world. She hadn’t asked him to sit. This was all her fault for speaking their longing out loud. They should just go back to the way they’d been. And was pretending that he didn’t desire her with every fiber of his being really what he wanted? Damn this confusion. If he’d lost her, he didn’t know what he was going to do. “Some of the things I said the last time we met were…inappropriate.”
“Which things would those be?”
Of course she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. She never did. Daniel realized that, oddly, this was one of the things he liked most about her. Which didn’t help him come up with an answer. “Those that implied that I have any right to dictate—”
“We completed our task,” she interrupted.
“Task?”
“We found the information we were looking for,” she said.
“Information?” Yes, just keep repeating a word from her sentences like a dashed parrot, Daniel thought. That made a fine impression.
“About Rose Cottage, why it was left to me. That was the reason we began. And we have succeeded.”
“So now that you know, you’re abandoning me?”
“Abandoning?”
He’d gotten her doing it. She looked incredulous. But all that Daniel could think was that she was going to leave him. He had to stop her. “You said you’d help me set the estate records in order. You promised.”
“‘Promise’ is rather an overstatement.”
“And the bathing chamber. You said you’d supervise.”
“I can consult with Carson from here.”
“You like to see each step of the process for yourself. You said so.” He had to find the right argument to keep her. There had to be one.
“I think it’s not wise for me to be at Frithgerd. You as much as said so yourself.”
“But I’m an idiot.” His thoughts were muddled by the attraction she exerted—like the swift current of a river about to hurtle over a precipice. They were alone in the house. She could run to his arms, demand more of those intoxicating kisses. He would never be able to refuse her again.
To his everlasting relief, she laughed. “You do know that you should hire an estate agent,” she said. “A really competent one since organization is not your forte.”
“Forte,” he repeated before he could stop himself. He loved the way she spoke.
“Not one of your natural skills.”
“I know what the wordmeans.” It wasn’t the vocabulary. It was the style.
She nodded. “There’s no shame in admitting that one’s particular talents do not lie in…certain directions.”
For some reason, this innocuous phrase filled the room with heat. Daniel’s thoughts went in the direction of lusciously fulfilled desire, and he was certain that hers did as well. But they mustn’t talk about that, or she would withdraw again. “Fortunately your talents do.”
