And the more she thought about how she could hear her breath, the louder it seemed to get. She tried holding it, but that wasn’t advisable. She wondered if it would be considered rude to stand up and walk to the window and gulp in some air. Quietly.
She was half out of her seat when Lord Abbott abruptly stood, startling her. She fell back into her seat with a slight grunt. He looked at her strangely, then took two steps in her direction and held out a paper. At arm’s length. “I should like to reply that the offer is unacceptable.”
“Ah...” Hattie reached forward to take the paper, but as she did, the viscount was handing her another paper.
“The invitation to dine conflicts with a previous engagement.”
She took that one, too, but in her effort to juggle her pencil and paper and the letters all at once, she dropped her paper, and the sheets spilled around her feet. She quickly dipped down to pick them up, managing to bend the letters he’d given her in her lap when she did.
She could feel his gaze on her, could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. “I’m not usually so clumsy.” Her voice sounded loud and brash, like her mother’s. That was enough to send her into a panic.
She managed to gather everything up and settle it all in her lap. He was watching her closely. He probably wondered if he’d somehow managed to employ a clumsy fool. She certainly hoped not, but at the moment, she felt like she had only thumbs for fingers. “I’m generally very steady on my feet, if you’re wondering.”
“No,” he said.
No?No, as in she wasn’t steady on her feet? Or no, he wasn’t wondering?
“I’m really rather organized.”
He didn’t respond.
“And I’m quite ready, whenever you are.”
He waited a moment. “Is there more?”
“More?”
“More you’d like to announce.”
She was making a complete cake of herself. She could feel the heat in her cheeks as a tide of embarrassment rushed through her. “I think that will do.”
He looked unconvinced, but he gave her a curt nod and walked to a small writing desk in front of the window open to the garden. He pulled out the chair, turned to her, and said, “You may sit here. I will tell you what to write,sí?”
Of course! No wonder he’d been staring at her—how could she possibly expect to write a letter on her lap? She could kick herself for not having noticed the writing desk and going to it straightaway. She stood up with all her things. “Thank you, my lord. I am certain that my penmanship would not recommend itself if I were to compose a letter on my lap.” She chuckled softly. He did not.
He waited for her to settle, which naturally took a long moment, as the writing desk was quite small. But when she had arranged everything, she picked up the pen, glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “There we are. Ready when you are.”
“I’ve been ready,” he said. “To Señor Carmichael.”
Hattie hesitated only briefly.
“What? Why do you look like this?” he asked, gesturing to her face.
“Would you like to address it to Mr. Carmichael? I don’t know who he is, but he might not understand the salutation.”
“Ah. To Mr. Carmichael,” he amended.
Thank goodness.She wrote that down.
The viscount put his hands in his pockets and strolled to the window. “Say I have reviewed the offer of purchase he made and my grandfather accepted, but that I find it so low as to be insulting.”
That sounded intriguing. The sale of what, she wondered. Shouldn’t she reference it?
“As for the invitation, please decline it. Say all the things in English one does when declining.”
“Oh, umm...” She paused, wondering if she ought to say anything at all, or simply write exactly what he’d dictated.
He was already on his way back to his seat on the sofa, but he paused and turned his head and looked at her. As long as she lived, she would not forget those hazel eyes.
