Page 36 of Indecently Employed
Highwaymen or ghosts?Or a highwayman’s ghost, as Faine had erroneously recalled earlier? Ajax frowned, riffling through a book on Dick Turpin, the infamous Hounslow Heath highwayman, and entreated his mind to make a decision, any decision. He let go of the cover, allowing it to flap shut, and released a deep sigh.
He had to send something to Rokeby soon. Anything, really, and very soon. It wasn’t that he needed the money, of course. But he needed something that was his, that gave him purpose. Perhaps even joy. Because for so long he’d had nothing.
He looked down to the paper before him, containing a paltry list of prospective titles he’d already crossed out, the majority of which sparked little interest or imagination. His eyes fell upon the last idea, the only one he’d yet to reject.The Ghost’s Forlorn Embrace.His pen hovered over it, ready to slash it to pieces with a satisfyingly thick stroke, but he hesitated. Charlotte would certainly approve of anything that made mention of spirits. Perhaps he could work with it, flesh it out if he committed to it. And it was certainly vague enough—
A gentle rap at the door interrupted his line of thought and sent a bolt of panic through him. He stood quickly, shuffling his papers about, desperate not to be seen like this.
Like how?a small voice asked, but he beat it back, his fluster overriding all logic.
The heavy, ancient door opened slowly, and the pretty governess appeared from behind it. She let go of the metal ring that served as a handle, and it fell against the solid wood with an ominous thud.
“Ah, Miss Abbotts. I’d been meaning to send someone to fetch you,” he muttered, slipping the list of rejected titles beneath a folded-up stack of papers he’d been meaning to clear out for months.
He glanced up just in time to catch her following his hands with interest.Shit.
“Just tidying up my work here, I’ve been at it all day—er, evening, that is, after taking care of this and that with Faine, you know. Busy, busy, you know how it is, getting back in the routine.” Good lord, he couldn’t stop blathering. Once more he was back at school, desperately trying to talk his way out of a proper trouncing from the older boys. It had never worked, until one day when it finally did.Where were those hard-won skills of spontaneous elocution now?the same little voice mocked.
She stepped forward, curiosity dancing about her brown eyes. “I was not aware you worked,” she said. She paused before speaking again, this time in a hurried, uncomfortable manner. “Pardon. I did not mean to imply that you did not labor at anything, only that—”
Ajax held up his hands and cut her off. “No, no, think nothing of it.”
“It’s just your interests—hobbies, really, that I was…” She looked away, the color rising in her cheeks.
“I do, I do have hobbies, I…” He placed his hands on his hips.
“Oh?” she said, with such eagerness he wanted to offer her something, some tidbit of information.
He scanned the contents of his desk, desperate for something to tell her, to satisfy her curiosity and end this excruciatinglyawkward farce of an exchange. A small article on the front of the topmost folded newspaper caught his eye.
“Cleton,” he sputtered.
“Pardon?”
“It—it’s a town. Or rather, was a town, once. Before the ocean swallowed it up.”
“Really? How curious.” Miss Abbotts stepped farther into the room, tentatively taking a seat in the armchair he was gesturing to with an open palm. She kept her eyes fixed straight ahead, and appeared to be deliberately averting her gaze from the venerable oak four-poster bed that took up the other half of his solar.
Ajax could feel the tension that had momentarily dissipated begin to mount again, so he laid it on thick. “Yes, it was a bustling medieval fishing village. Until the ocean rose and never receded. Most left before then, but the houses, the buildings, the church… all gone. It’s not far from here, really, only a morning’s ride. Anyhow, it’s fascinating, and I find myself absorbed with it.”
Did he now?Idiot, the voice in his head scolded.
“I see,” Miss Abbotts said, allowing herself to look up at him, clutching a folded piece of paper.
He wanted to kiss her. But instead he kept talking. “Yes. Trying to locate it, you know. It’s a puzzle, really.”
She parted her lips and nodded, her eyes locked on his. His body tightened.
“Perhaps I could take you there.” His voice came out thicker than he intended, and he swallowed.
The red in her cheeks deepened. “Oh?”
He turned and collapsed into his desk chair. “The both of you.” He cleared his throat. “Charlotte. And you. If you’d like, that is.”
She stared at the paper in her hands as she unfolded it. “Yes. I would like that. And Miss Sedley would as well, I’m sure.”
“Of course.” Even in that gown, her most unsightly one yet, he couldn’t tamp down his body’s response to her. Christ help him, but he wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull her into his lap. He shifted in his seat, crossing his legs.
A long moment passed with Miss Abbotts looking everywhere but at Ajax, almost as if she were waiting for him to say what he was thinking: that he wanted hitch up her skirts and slip his hand through the slit of her drawers, where he would use his fingers to coax her sweet quim into a slick wetness.
