Page 16 of One London Eve
“This is the last house on our list, and it appears to have the most space,” Mr. Hale declared, standing in the upstairs drawing room of an empty row house. “Besides the rather unpleasant wallpaper, I should think it will do. What do you say, Margaret?”
“Yes, I believe so. Mother shall have a sitting room. And you won’t mind that your study is rather small, papa?”
“Not at all. As long as your mother is well-situated, I can be satisfied with whatever space is allotted me.”
“Oh, but that garish wallpaper—in the drawing room nonetheless, where we cannot hide it! Perhaps you could ask the landlord to change it?”
Mr. Hale promised he would do so. Pleased to have decided upon a place, he was eager to set out at once to see Mr. Donkin, the man who would be their landlord.
“You look tired, my dear. Now that we are finished, why don’t we go back to our hotel? You can rest while I go to speak to the landlord. We’ll order lunch when I get back.”
Margaret found no joy in walking along the dirty streets as they made their way to the hotel. Everyone seemed in a haste to be somewhere else or were selling or carting wares for sale. There was neither a tree nor a patch of grass to be seen. All was hay-strewn cobblestone, packed dirt, and crowded buildings of brick. She dared not dwell on how dismal it would appear to her mother—and Dixon.
Mr. Hale departed quickly once he had escorted his daughter inside the hotel. Margaret was relieved to be away from her father’s sight for a time. Weary thoughts pressed down upon her. She had done her duty for the day and was eager now for some quiet rest.
She began to climb the stairway, but a porter stopped her.
“Pardon, Miss, but the gentleman left so quickly, I couldn’t relay the message. Mr. Thornton is here to see your father. He’s waiting in your sitting room this minute.”
“My father will be back directly, thank you.”
She sighed as she resumed her course up the stairs, reminding herself that this Mr. Thornton had been kind to her father and was due the proper courtesy from her. She only hoped her father would not be long.
Pausing at the door, she took a deep breath, steadying her resolve to meet the waiting guest with the social grace she had learned well in London.
She stepped into the room and saw a tall, dark figure at the far window. He spun about at her entry.
The jolt of recognition sent a tremor through her frame. Her mouth fell open. Her eyes widened. All her fine comportment vanished.
“You!” she breathed, unable to utter another sound.
Mr. Thornton was stunned, his feet rooted to the floor. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words formed as he stared in confusion at the face he had imagined a hundred times. How was it possible she was here?
She had recognized him!Struck by this realization, a spark of elation ignited a fire in his veins, for he had long ago told himself she would never think of him again. He moved closer to her.
“I looked for you, but you had gone,” he explained, as if their encounter had happened mere days ago. He fastened his eyes on her, scarcely believing she was truly standing before him.
Margaret’s heart skittered at his confession.He had searched for her?She dropped her gaze from his inquiring stare. “Edith…my cousin…had a headache and we left,” she stammered, daring to flash her eyes at him for only a moment.
“I am sorry for it. I had wished to dance again.” His straightforward reply, spoken in a low and tender manner, sent a shiver through her.
She could not speak.
The compulsion to elicit from her that frank, independent manner he had witnessed before made him close the distance between them. He flung aside all reason and common mannerisms. He longed only to make that connection between them that had beguiled him ever since.
“Do you remember?” He raised his arms in invitation to waltz with him. Beckoning her to come within his grasp again. As she had been once before.
It wouldn’t be proper, and in a clear state of mind she would have demurred, but she was mesmerized by the gentle earnestness in his eyes.
When their hands—no longer gloved—touched, a frisson of warmth flowed through her. She was stunned to find how instantly she was swept into that same dizzying spell by his touch.
She felt her cheeks burn and could not look at him. Her smile grew wider as she kept pace with his soundless lead, turning them to avert skimming the back wall in this closed space. She glanced down at their feet. The sight of her dusty walking boots made her laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.
He pulled her to a stop at the sound.
She looked up in surprise; her face still aglow with silly glee.
Deep within him, something twisted and ached. He knew at once that this was what he wanted.
