CHAPTER SEVEN
Nathaniel looked up. The study was dark and quiet. Behind the grate, a fire burned sedately, an outrageous expense in the height of summer but the chill of ancient stone made it a necessity. On the corner of the desk where he worked sat an untouched tray containing some sort of meat and woefully overcooked vegetables. Darkness disguised the corners of the room, the weak light from the quartet of sconces barely illuminating. Opposite him, Miss Webster sat with her head bent over her notebook, her unmoving pencil held to the paper and her shoulders drooped.
He frowned. The day had disappeared without his notice. Not an unusual occurrence, but he was feeling… Miss Webster looked tired, and he was the cause of it.
“We should stop.”
Her head jerked up, her green eyes wide and rimmed in red. Now she looked both tired and startled.
Cursing himself, he repeated, “We should stop. I did not realise it had grown dark.”
She nodded and, ever so infinitesimally, stretched.
His frown deepened. He should not have put her in such a position. “You should have told me you were tired.”
Her lips thinned, but she said nothing.
“I do not always notice the time. Hiddleston says I would not notice the passage of years if it weren’t for—” He stopped abruptly. He couldn’t believe he had been about to mention bodily functions, and what’s more he had been going to relay them in the crude manner Hiddleston had initially said them.
Silence fell between them. She sat in her chair, her shoulders tense.
“I remember you.”
Again, he had startled her. He floundered for something to soften his words. “You were a bar maid in Cambridge, at your father’s tavern. Why are you now a secretary?”
She blinked. “I…don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”
“You are competent.”
Her eye twitched.
He had said something incorrect. That was the look on people’s face when they did not respond as expected. “You are competent and are no doubt a competent secretary. I can testify to the observations you have made today.”
Her brow creased. “How can you testify—”
“My point is—” he said quickly, not wanting to dwell on how much time he’d spent observing her. “You were a barmaid in your father’s tavern and now you are a secretary to a peer of the realm. That is a leap in circumstance. How did it occur?”
She sighed. “This cannot be of interest to you.”
But it was. He was too interested in her. Making his expression impassive, he gestured for her to begin.
She sighed again. “Lady Caroline was in Cambridge visiting a friend and she required a maid. I was asked to fill the position and she liked me well enough to offer me a more permanent position.”
He levelled his gaze upon her. “There is more.”
She lifted a shoulder helplessly. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“You speak differently. You can read and write. You have changed your appearance and your manner. I presume this is Lady Caroline’s influence?”
She lifted her chin. “I am fortunate for the opportunity to better myself.”
He frowned. There was little wrong with her before. Perhaps her accent had been rough, but he remembered her being a bright, intelligent girl, negotiating the patrons at her father’s tavern with grace and ease. He remembered her conversing with law students and shop keeps both, her conversation suited to whoever she spoke with. The girl she had been had matured into a woman with all that promise and more. “You are much the same.”
Her expression shuttered. “Perhaps it is time for us to call it an evening, sir,” she said stiffly.
He had something wrong again. He ran over his words, but nothing leapt out at him.
She was, however, correct. It was late, and he’d kept her much later than he’d intended. He stood. “Tomorrow, we will talk with the baker the stablehand spoke of.”
She nodded. “I will organise a carriage to take us back to the inn.”
“Yes.” He thought about it. “No.”
“No?”
“I will organise the carriage. You sit.”
Bewilderment creased her brow. “But sir—”
“Please rest.”
She opened her mouth, only to close it again.
Uncomfortable with the emotion inside him, he nodded briskly. “Good. Wait here.” He turned on his heel and left before she could say anything further.
His steps slowed as he strode further from the study. He didn’t understand his actions around her. Usually, he acted decisively, logically, and everything made sense. Around her…he didn’t know himself.
Shaking it off, he searched for a footman to arrange their transport. Perhaps he was tired. It had been a long day. Tomorrow would be normal.
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