He knocked again.
The squeak and groan of a bed, the soft sigh of a wakened sleeper. Her bedcovers were blue. He’d seen them yesterday. Did she sleep with her corkscrew curls bound in a plait or free and wild, strewn across her pillow?
“Miss Angleton,” Mrs. Dart said, her voice slow and muffled, “if that is you, do go back to sleep. It is early yet. I’ll scold you for”—a long yawn—“your actions last night sometime past noon.”
“It’s me.”
A squeak of the human variety this time. “Have you come to say farewell?” Her voice sharper now, less softened by the lethargy of sleep.
“No.”
The door popped open. She peered up at him from a slim crack, all black curls and white shift, large eyes and constellations of freckles. “No what?”
“I’ve not come to say farewell. I’m staying. As long as you do.” He took a step toward the crack to join her in her chamber.
She slammed the door in his face.
He knocked. “Mrs. Dart.” He knocked again, harder this time. “Mrs. D?—”
The door opened again, fully this time, and she wore a wrapper, some blue silk thing much too thin for the weather. And much too… feminine forher. Like the pink, it changed her. Where she’d always seemed all angles and lines and an arched brow of disapproval, now she seemed soft like a flower petal, welcoming. She clutched the sides of the wrapper together at her chest and joined him in the hallway. He caught only a glimpse of a rumpled bed behind her before the door shut entirely.
“You’ve decided to stay?” She pressed her back to the door, her face unreadable.
“I have.”
“What changed your mind? I thought you thought we were at an impasse. I’m trying to control you, remember? And you willnotallow it.”
“I was hasty yesterday. My temper has cooled overnight, and I now see the benefit of taking some time to convince you to remain in my employ.” Not just his employ. Not any longer. He turned and strode toward the stairs.
“Where are you going?”
“To break my fast. Will you join me later?”
Silence, then ayesfollowed him down the stairs.
He found a housekeeper first, an elderly lady who called herself Mrs. Scott, and she showed him to the room where Mrs. Dart broke her fast, brought a pot of tea and promised eggs. When he asked for paper, she promised him that, too. And soon he had everything he needed for practical and survival purposes. Tea on one hand, paper and ink on the other, a plate of sustenance in between. He slipped his glasses from his pocket, donned them, and composed a letter first, sipping his tea between sentences. And when he had the epistle written to his man of business, instructing him to find out what he could at Mrs. Dart’s finances, he tugged off his gloves and tucked into the eggs. Cold now. But he’d not eaten much the night before.
And the food helped him organize his thoughts regarding Mrs. Dart. The perfect candidate for his wife. He would have set about this path sooner had he known. It was the most logical solution. Yet, he hesitated. Had he considered this plan a month ago, beforepink, he would have asked her directly, placed the plan before her, and known she would make the sensible decision.
Now… he could not be so sure. She’d rejected Tidsdale’s offer of marriage. Did that mean she did not wish to marry at all? Or was it merely a Tidsdale-specific reaction to matrimony?
She might tell Drew no, too.
She had run from him in Manchester. And she’d refused to guarantee a return to his employ. Points against him, points to make him wary of a direct approach.
On the other hand, her refusal to help him find a wife in Manchester suggested she was not unmoved by baser emotions. Had a fit of jealousy sent her running away from him then? She had seemed to enjoy the kiss. And she had rejected his attempts to apologize for it.
He leaned back in his chair and pushed his glasses to the top of his head. Marriage would require kissing. He was not opposed. Neither, it seemed, was she. Perhaps, then, a direct approachwaswarranted.
“Lord Andrew, I see you’ve made yourself at home.” From the doorway, Mrs. Dart offered a small, slightly wavery smile, as if she were unsure of herself. Her curls were piled high, and her gown was green today, and she wore a red shawl pulled tight around her shoulders.
“I have. I thought you would not mind.”
“Not at all.” She sat at the small circular table across from him and poured herself a cup of tea. “I am quite glad to see you at your ease.”
He did not like indecision. He needed a strategy for moving forward. Tell her directly his goal or… court her secretly? There would have been no subtle courtship with the other women.
But Mrs. Dart was not the other women. She was… she was…
