Page 10 of Miss Hawthorne’s Unlikely Husband (The Troublemakers Trilogy #3)

Thornfield House, London

The next day

T oday was the day. She sat on the floor playing with Young Ellie, as the little girl seemed to be discovering her toes.

Her brother was content to lay in Isolde’s lap while she doted on him.

Elodia had made the decision to sit with her back to the door after she found herself staring at the doorway.

Her stomach had been in such a disarray that she’d barely been able to choke down anything at breakfast. The longer she sat there, the more she questioned the wisdom of her course of action.

She wanted to simply run up the stairs and leave it at his desk.

It would have been simple enough, and she wouldn’t have to look him in the eye in the event that he was displeased.

There was only one issue with this course of action.

He would never know it was her and she wouldn’t be able to let him know what she had done.

She could give it to Ada, but it lacked the personal touch of delivering it herself.

Wouldn’t he then assume that she didn’t care who delivered it and, by association, that the gesture had less meaning than it did?

She should have written a note. Perhaps it was too late for that particular idea.

Even now, she couldn’t decide what she wanted more, to have it finished or to push for the most ideal outcome.

“Ellie?” She looked up at Ada.

“Yes?”

“I was asking if you had any plans in place for a week from now?”

“No.”

“We’ve decided on a date for the christening. Gigi and Leo will be back from their honeymoon by Saturday, so I thought it would work.”

“Yes, that’s fine. Whatever you like, Ada.”

The front door slammed open and Elodia glanced over to Ada, who pursed her lips, her eyes fixed on the doorway. There were two pairs of heavy footsteps in the entryway. One was even and measured, the other beating out a brisk tattoo on the parquet. He hadn’t come in. That wasn’t usual for him.

Basil entered the room and pressed a kiss to Ada’s head.

“Hello darling,” her greeted her, before he plopped down on the floor in front of Elodia. Elodia released the girl and waited for her to crawl to her father. “Miss Elodia, Miss Walsh.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Thompson,” Isolde replied. “Was that Mr. Thornfield who came in with you?”

“Yes. He’s in a tricky mood at the moment.”

Oh God. If he was in a foul temper then she definitely didn’t want to face him now. Although Ada had always teased her about her ability to improve his mood, Elodia wasn’t ready to put that idea to the test.

“Oh?” Isolde’s eyebrows shot up. “I can’t imagine him with a temper.”

“It’s not the sort of thing one would enjoy, believe me. He’s not an easy person to anger, but once you’ve managed it…” Basil shook his head.

Was she being selfish? Perhaps he had been hurt or offended and here she was, only thinking of herself. “Do you know what has angered him?” Elodia asked.

Basil shook his head. “Not a clue. He was like that this morning.”

“Did you see him at Lady Sterling’s ball, Ellie?” Ada asked.

“Yes, but he left early.”

Ada looked at Basil. “Hmmm. By all accounts, he arrived late last night.”

“How very mysterious,” Isolde commented.

“He only needs a moment to cool off and he’ll be back to his typical charming self,” Basil assured them.

Elodia wasn’t sure if that was true, but what she was certain of was that she couldn’t wait and she couldn’t face him.

If he was bathing and changing his clothes now, then she had time to sneak up there, write a note and then leave it with the gift.

If he wanted to address it with her, he could and would, but she would hold the secret no longer.

Waiting was becoming torturous and almost silly.

This was the moment. It was perhaps a bit forward of her but there was no time like the present, and no better way to get answers than to ask a question. She’d already waited too long to return it to him, and even if it didn’t go the way she’d wanted, he deserved to have his property back.

She stood, excused herself and walked out the door and down the hallway to his study.

The dark wooden door was cracked open. She’d seen it a thousand times, but she’d never entered the room before.

It had always felt too personal, too close to him.

She knocked gently, and when there was no answer, she pushed the door open wide enough for her to slip inside.

Instantly she was consumed by his scent; amber, sage and a spice like pepper or cumin. All of that mixed with leather and fresh paper. There were so many touches that showed it was his, from the guqin resting on a table to the lacquered cherrywood chessboard with white and black stones.

She walked over to his desk and pulled out the package before sitting down to write the letter.

A black stick lay against a small stone slab, a row of brushes hung nearby.

Did he paint with them? Had she known he painted?

Her eyes caught sight of letters and notes in his neat precise handwriting, some in English and some in Chinese characters.

She picked up the silver quill that lay near a crystal ink well.

What should she say? She closed her eyes, pen in hand and took a deep breath.

This was no time for messing about. She had fifteen minutes at best to speak her mind or carry it in her chest for the rest of her life.

She began to write, pouring out every thought, every wish onto the pristine paper in stark black ink.

Finally, when it was done, she folded the sheet and set it along with the package on top of the stack of documents already there, her mouth dry with nerves, her head light with the level of emotion she’d expunged.

Footsteps sounded in the hall and she hurried to her feet, giving his desk one last overview.

“Elodia,” his voice came.

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide as her stomach flipped wildly. She couldn’t bring herself to speak. Damn. She’d only needed another minute and now he was here, watching her behind his desk, engaging in the most hideous breech of privacy.

“What are you doing here?” There was an edge to his voice she hadn’t ever heard before. Was it a sign to leave quickly? She stumbled around his desk, her fingers clutching her skirts as she prayed she didn’t trip over her hem. Lord above, what was she supposed to say? “Did Ada send you?”

“No,” she replied. He moved further into the room and she backed away until her back was against the book cased wall. She hadn’t bothered to come up with anything to say. It was all in the letter. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“What is that?” he asked, staring at the package on his desk.

Was he an eagle in another life? “Um… it’s for you, I believe.”

“Did you leave this here?” His eyes flicked up to hers and her throat clenched down hard on whatever lie was lodged there. Would he know if she did? Had he seen her leave it there? “It’s a bit late for a Christmas gift,” he continued, “and far too early for my birthday.”

“Yes, but—” she swallowed past her nerves. Why couldn’t she say it? Why couldn’t she simply admit that it was his pocket watch? “I saw it and I thought of you and I wanted you to have it.” All of a sudden, she was horribly embarrassed that she’d held onto it for so long.

He closed his eyes and sighed. “Elodia.” She watched the muscle in his jaw clench and knew she was running out of time. Better to let it out now, even if it came out a jumbled mess.

“I think of you often. You have always been special in my heart, Richard, and when you said you were going to marry—”

“No.”

“No, what?” she asked as her stomach lurched sharply.

“You should stop speaking now, and leave.”

It was like falling into a frozen lake. A breathtaking wave of cold and then… nothing. Her brain couldn’t understand what he’d said. That he’d said it to her . He wanted her to leave. He wanted her to be silent? “Will you not even consider me?” she asked.

“I will not.” He seemed almost annoyed. “You are perfectly lovely, but you are a young woman, far too young for me.”

Too young? What reasoning was that? Her eyes stung. If he was going to reject her, he could at least say the truth instead of insulting her with such nonsense. “Regina wasn’t too young for Mr. Kingston.”

He shook his head. “That is different.”

“Ada wasn’t too young for Mr. Thompson.”

He looked up at her. “Those were extenuating circumstances. You think you want this but you would be better served by someone else.”

He’d never spoken to her like this, spoken down to her as if she was a child. “You think I am too simple to know my own mind.”

“I never said that.”

That frustration gave her just enough courage to stand her ground. “I love you. I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you. I was… I’ve been waiting—”

The look on his face cut her words short. He was shocked but there was no delight. Oh God.

“I’m glad you spoke then, so I could put an end to this.” He closed his eyes again and rubbed his forehead. “I’ve always admired you, Elodia, I won’t pretend otherwise, but not in the way you speak of.”

“You do not share my feelings?”

“I am flattered by your regard—”

“Regard—” she choked out.

“But no, I cannot accept your feelings anymore than I can accept that gift.” He pointed to the brown paper wrapped package, and she looked at it but stayed where she was. She would sooner cut off her hands than take it back.

“But you…” Her mouth was trembling against tears and her chest felt like it was caving in on itself. “I thought you cared for me.”

He sighed forcefully. Was that frustration? “Of course I care for you, you are my sister’s friend.”

A friend? Ada’s friend? “Is that all I am to you?”

He didn’t respond, just stared at her with that vexed expression. Was that all it was? Her head was spinning ruthlessly. Every kind word, every dance, every look whether Ada was there or not, was that all him being kind for her sake? She couldn’t trust herself to speak.