Page 48 of Desperate Proposals
“Please, sit,” said Evelyn. “I shall not be long.”
Marcus sat and gestured to another chair, hoping she would take it, but she shook her head.
Nothing about her manner betrayed a hint of what they’d been up to, oh, eleven hours or so earlier. Her expression was, as usual, placid and cold, like the still waters of an ancient loch nestled between snow-capped mountains. She looked awfully fetching in a dark blue frock. Had he seen this one before? Itseemed somehow different from the rest of her wardrobe, he thought as he studied her complexion, her blue eyes.
“Mrs. Gill informed me that the two bedrooms in the northeastern corner have been prepared for Mrs. Wolfenden and Leonora,” she stated calmly, unaffected by his gaze.
“Who?” Marcus furrowed his brow.
“Mrs. Gill?” Evelyn blinked. “Your—our—housekeeper?”
“Oh, right. Right. Mrs. Gill,” he said with more enthusiasm than he’d intended, feeling a bit embarrassed.
“Yes,” she said slowly, then folded her hands. “I mean to speak with her about the carpets in Leonora’s room. That is, if—”
“Yes, of course. Spend whatever you deem necessary.”
Marcus waved a hand, feeling magnanimous. Which reminded him that he ought to write to Collier and ask if he would be willing to stand in for him in regard to the distribution of funds to women in need, seeing as he’d be away from London for longer than expected. He couldn’t allow his private acts of charity to lapse in his absence.To the list, he thought, reaching for a scrap of paper so he might write a reminder to himself before the idea flitted away.
“Er—no. The carpets are lovely; far too fine for a nursery, which is the problem. I mean to see if we might swap them out with the carpets in the music room. Those are quite worn, I believe.”
Marcus stared at her, bewildered.
“Is that a refusal, Mr. Hartley?” She drew a breath, tilting her chin upward ever so slightly.
“No, by all means. Do with the house what you will. God knows someone needs to pay attention to it.” He chuckled, then scribbled his note:Have Collier distribute funds. He looked up. “And as I said last night, please—call me Marcus.”
She pressed her lips together.
“Don’t pull a face,” he jibed good-naturedly. “At least consider it.”
“We are in disagreement on this issue,” she said, her tone flat. “And I have never, as you put it, ‘pulled a face.’”
Marcus sighed and shook his head. “I really ought to have outlined this in our contract.”
“Contract?” she said, bristling.
“A jest, a jest. There’s nothing written… I only mean our private agreement,” he assured. He reached for Towle’s invitation, thinking to shift the tension he’d invited into their conversation.
“Good.”
She stepped forward as if to punctuate her point.
“I have another practical matter for you,Mrs. Hartley,” he added, unable to restrain himself.
Her reaction was nearly imperceptible, but she blinked, and tightened the clasp of her hands against one another.Ah.She did not enjoy being teased, though everything Marcus had ever seen her say or do had already suggested that. It occurred to him that he ought to lay off if he wished to ever be admitted to her chamber again. He sighed, then lifted the invitation so she might see it.
“Do you possess appropriate attire for a dinner party?”
She squinted, trying to make out the words written on it. He really needed to ask the doctor about that. For the moment, though, he leaned in her direction and offered it to her. She stepped forward and took it; her every movement was slow, carefully considered.
As she read the invitation, Marcus took up the scrap on which he had been writing his list. Underneath his reminder to write to Collier, he added:Also ask Collier for suggestion of doctor in Birmingham. Might as well kill two birds with one stone;Birmingham was nearly as good as London when it came to this sort of thing.
“Dinner party?” Evelyn returned the invitation to his desk. “This states that the event is to be a ball.”
“Ball, dinner party, they’re all the same.” Marcus curbed the urge to roll his eyes, guessing she’d not appreciate it. “Aren’t they?” he added, not liking how uncertain he sounded.
“Hmm. You’ll find the dress requirement is not.”
