Page 68 of Her Beast

“Yes, come in,” she called out, untying the sash on her painting smock

The door opened a crack and a slight, brown-haired, gray-eyed young man peered in through the gap. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Miss Harlow.”

Julia tossed aside her smock.

“Who are you?”

The man’s narrow, face flushed. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry.” He opened the door just wide enough to bow but stayed out in the corridor. “I’m John Butkins, Mr. Barton’s secretary.”

“Please, come in.”

He glanced around and hesitated. “Is Mrs. Kemp here?”

“No. Were you looking for her?”

“Er, no, actually, I was looking for you. I’m afraid that Mr. Barton has been unavoidably delayed and will not be joining you for dinner this evening.”

The pang of disappointment she felt was so sharp it startled her. “I hope nothing is wrong?”

“No, no, nothing wrong. Just an unexpected meeting.”

He continued to hover on the threshold—probably concerned about the impropriety of stepping into her room—so Julia closed the distance between them. Up close she saw he wasn’t as young as she’d first thought. Indeed, he had a touch of gray at his temples.

He seemed unnecessarily anxious, which—oddly—made her feel bolder.

“Will he be back for our nightly game of cribbage?” she asked.

“I don’t think so, Miss Harlow.”

Julia frowned at that. “Oh. That is unfortunate.”

His bland features reassembled themselves into an expression of concern. “Er, is there anything I can do to help?”

She gave him an arch look. “Help me how?” she asked, unable to resist teasing him for some reason; he just had the sort of face that demanded teasing.

“Er, I beg your pardon?”

“Are you offering to help me escape?”

“No!” His forehead puckered as he cut her an aggrieved look. “I’m terribly sorry, Miss Harlow. Anything but that.”

“Will you tell me why I’m here?”

He grimaced. “Well, or that.”

Julia clucked her tongue. “You’re not being very helpful, Mr. Butkins.”

His pale face pinkened, making him look boyishly attractive. “I’m sorry.”

He sounded so genuine that she suddenly felt bad for teasing him. “Perhaps you can eat dinner with me?”

His jaw dropped and he pointed a finger at his chest. “Me?”

Julia caught her lower lip beneath her teeth to keep from laughing at his stunned look. “You do eat, don’t you?”

“Er…”

“You did say you wanted to be helpful,” she reminded him. “Have dinner with me, there isn’t anything improper about it.”

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