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“My goodness, I was starting to think you wouldn’t show,” she teased.
“It’s barely a quarter after nine, Delia,” Henry groused.
“You’ve a visitor,” she said brightly, not at all put off by his foul mood. “I stuck her in your office.”
Henry glanced toward the closed door. He could just make out the shadow of a figure through the frosted window. “I thought I didn’t have any morning appointments,” he murmured, so the woman wouldn’t overhear.
“You didn’t. She was pacing outside when I arrived. In a right mood, too.”
It was probably some disgruntled wife who had learned her husband had hired him to follow her. “What is her name?”
“She refused to give one. Just demanded to see you.”
Henry sighed and removed his coat and hat. That was never a good sign.
“I don’t suppose Maude made any more scones last night?”
Delia smiled and shook her head. “Sorry, sir. I’m afraid you’ll just have to use your charm to placate this one.”
God help him, then.
Henry plastered a smile on his face and made his way to the office. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” he began smoothly as he opened the door. If he was the first one to talk, he found it was easier to gain control of the conversation. The woman stood before the window, her profile illuminated by the morning light. At his entrance she turned toward him, and Henry stopped in his tracks. He blinked a few times and very nearly pinched his arm, but this was not a dream.
It washer.
All the air seemed to be wrenched from his lungs, and for a moment he worried he would fall dead away right there before Georgiana Fox.
No.Lady Arlington.
He had last seen her more than a year ago in Scotland, moments after she had learned of her beloved husband’s death. As with everything else about her, he had been unable to forget the image of her sobbing in the arms of Sylvia Sparrow, who had gone on to marry his good friend Rafe Davies. But now there was no trace of the heartbreak that had been etched so clearly on her face that day. Lady Arlington faced him fully, her posture ramrod straight, and lifted her chin. She was dressed in half mourning: a deep purple coat trimmed in black velvet that hugged the enticing curves Henry was trying very hard not to linger on and an outrageously large matching hat with a gauzy black veil pulled back to reveal her luminous face. Henry guessed the ensemble was the height of fashion—and expense.
She looked marvelous, commanding, and mad as hell.
Her sapphire eyes, so like her brother’s, fixed on him, and her frown deepened considerably.
Henry failed to ignore the significant twitch of interest below his waist. He had yet to move away from the door and still gripped the knob. For a very brief moment he considered leaving the room entirely. He, who had served on an active warship for over a decade, had gone undercover on countless occasions, and had survived an imprisonment, was nearly undone by the glare of a lady.
No. Notjusta lady. The woman who had torn out his heart before tossing it aside to bleed out on the ground.
Henry gripped the knob even tighter before he drew the door closed, his gaze never leaving hers.That was ages ago, he reminded himself. Henry had been an idiotic young man then. One who had mistaken deep infatuation, heady lust, and unsated desire for the beginnings of love. And, most damning of all, had believed she felt the same.
The click of the lock echoed in the silent room, and he gave a low bow.
“Lady Arlington. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Spare me the empty pleasantries, Captain,” she said crisply. “I am not a jilted wife who needs mollycoddling. You know why I’m here.”
Henry swallowed hard, both loving and hating the sound of his elevated rank on her lips. He gestured to the chair before his desk. “Please. Sit.”
She let out a huff before gliding over. Henry’s eyes were riveted to her every movement. The woman turned crossing a room into a veritable art form. Only when she was safely seated did he leave his spot by the door. As he walked around his desk, he saw that she noticed his cane, but the usual look of exaggerated pity did not follow. Well, that was a welcome surprise. Henry had endured enough shallow condolences from people to last him several lifetimes.
He took his seat across from her and met her eyes again, while a not insignificant part of him enjoyed the blistering feel of her gaze. How long had it been since anyone inspired such a visceral reaction in him? Of course it would be her.
He suddenly wished for a desk twice as wide.
As if that would make a difference.
There should always be miles and miles between them, at the very least.
