He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “But I’m scheduled to ruin two baron’s daughters at noon today and a schoolroom miss tomorrow evening.”
“Two barons’ daughters or two daughters of one baron?”
“Just the one baron. Two daughters. Only one residence in which to ruin them, you see. Much more efficient.”
“Ah well, you’ll have to cancel. Though I applaud your efficiency. I trust you’ll apply it to acting as a respectable married man in the future.”
He laughed, and the sound vibrated the tension out of his muscles. “I’ll happily comply with all your demands on that front, Lil Bean. We must consider the wallflowers, after all. They need you all respectable and what not.”
“Thank you, Devon.” She glowed. Damn, but he adored it when she glowed. And he’d made it happen. Almost enough to make up for the dreadful hours in that maze of a patent office.
She crossed through the third item on her list, and her pen hovered over the fourth. With a hesitation not usual for her, her gaze met his. “I must admit to being unable to think of little else the last several days except your clothing.”
“My clothing? I’d rather you fixate on what’s beneath it, love.”
She blushed and wiggled a bit in her chair. “If you do not use any of your allowance or inheritance, how do you remain so well-clothed?”
He looked down at his suit. “I suppose I don’t. Been three years since I last bought a new article.”
“Three,” she repeated.
“Three.”
“It is rather difficult to believe.” She ran her gaze over him from cravat, to boot crossed over his knee, and everything in between. “How are they not frayed more?
He pulled his lapels tight, an expression of pride clear on his features. “I take good care of them. And”—he cleared his throat—“I admit I had a ridiculous number of suits before I decided not to have any more made. There are still some in my wardrobe I've not worn for three years.”
“You are lucky you wear them well enough no one seems to notice. They do say it is the man who makes the clothes.”
He grinned, brushed off the shoulder of his jacket.
She crossed the fourth item off her list, then laid the pen firmly on the table. She pressed her fingers into the paper, turned it, and pushed it across the satiny wood closer to him.
He swallowed hard and stared down at the only remaining item on the list—the future.
Slowly, Lillian rose to her feet. She circled the desk and wrapped her arms around Devon’s neck. Her scent—mint and tea this morning—nearly drowned him. Lovely way to go. He leaned his head into her embrace as she hitched up her hip and popped herself into his lap, her arms still clinging to his neck.
He resisted the urge to close his eyes to the curiosity shining in her own. Instead, he held her gaze and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in close. He’d give her what he could because he could give her so little.
“You are a very determined man, Devon,” she said. “I know, with all that I am, that you will make your own way in the world. But I do wish… I wish you would accept help frommeif from no one else. My parents have a partnership, and I wish us to have the same.”
Her shoulders curved inward as if the simple request hollowed her out, and her head hung heavy between them. She seemed to hold her breath, her every muscle quivering in a tense space between movement.
“Look at me,” he said.
She did but slowly, tentatively. Lillian Clarke, tentative, was not right.
He wanted, needed, to bring her back to life, to give her some reassurance. So he kissed her, pouring every unspoken promise he could into it.
Her hands flattened against his chest, pushed. She shook her head, shook the kiss-daze from her eyes, and as they cleared, her old confident determination returned. “If you do not win Frederick’s? What happens then? If a month comes and goes, and you still do not have the money? Will you not rely on me then? Will you not rely on yourowninheritance? At least allow me to offer you a loan.”
His gut roiled. Every word she hurled at him hurt, but only because they were entirely true. He must think of the future, now that the future included a wife. Children after that. He could sacrifice luxuries for himself, but it would not be fair to force them to do so. And he could not live apart from them, keeping his dour bachelor quarters. He’d have to give in. He’d have to give up.
An end, not a beginning.
He hitched a charming smile on his lips. Just for her. “I’ll look into those investments George and Arthur offered to help me with. It is no quick path to financial security and will not help me gain the coffeehouse, but it will secure the future you are so right to worry about. And I’ll still have my invention. If I lose Frederick’s, we’ll live off my inheritance or yours, whichever you prefer, until I can make The Amazing Coffee Creator a viable and lucrative option.”
She stared at him in wide-eyed wonder, then wrapped her arms around his neck once more. She burrowed her face in his chest. “Thank you. I know it is difficult for you to make such a concession.”
