Page 12 of Tempting Mr. Townsend
“No. The vile tyrant made me work my way up through the business.” Affection deepened his voice when he spoke of his brother. “I started as a clerk. At a clerk's wages.”
“Oh, foul injustice. I'm sure you didn't like that.”
“Not at first. But I quickly learned that numbers are key in business. Luckily all that schooling had made me a wizard with arithmetic.”
She sighed in mock disappointment. “I'd imagined wild foreign adventures. Pirates. Mutinies. Treasure hunts. Lovely dusky maidens. Exploring unknown lands.”
“You're a romantic, lass.”
He'd called her lass a couple of times. Something silly and feminine in her melted into syrup every time he did. “Perhaps. Or perhaps your heroics at the inn turned my head.”
“Aye. I'm a right knight in shining armor.”
“So you did the books, and honed your financial genius, and eventually took over the company?”
“No. After a year or so, William took pity on me and put me to work on the ships as a common sailor.”
“At a common sailor's wages?”
“You're a right sharp lass,” he said. “Aye. But I didn't mind. I was out of England and discovering life. It was an exciting time for a lad of eighteen. By that stage, I'd convinced him to venture further afield than Massachusetts.”
“I knew you'd had adventures,” she said, pleased. “How I envy your travels. I've never been anywhere, when you've seen the whole world.”
“Most of it. China and Brazil and New South Wales and India and Russia, at the very least.”
“Will you tell me about them?” she asked.
So he did. And the carriage ate up the miles without her noticing, as he entertained her with tales of incredible deeds in far-flung places like Siam and the Indies and the South Pacific.
* * *
Fenella stirred from vividly colored dreams of foreign lands. All featuring a larger-than-life, dark-haired man who took every danger in his stride. It was easy to dream of danger when she felt so deliciously warm and safe.
Then she remembered Brandon, and she made a sound of distress.
“Hush, lass,” an impossibly deep voice purred just beneath her ear.
Oh, dear. She was curled up against Mr. Townsend, her head resting on his shoulder. He'd wrapped his greatcoat around both of them so she felt marvelously cocooned and cherished.
And she realized with an unpleasant shock quite how far she'd come from the woman who'd set out in his company, convinced he was an unmannerly brute.
Flustered she began to fight against the restricting coat. “Let me up.”
“Give me a second,” he said gently and swiftly unwound her.
Clumsily she lurched to sit up. Her eyes were scratchy with tiredness, and she rolled her head to ease stiff neck muscles. Bare, wintry farmland stretched around them. The moon sat low on the horizon.
“I went to sleep.” The words emerged as an accusation.
“Only for half an hour. I warned you that my life was a dull topic.”
She'd been anything but bored with his adventures in all those fairytale places. But that hypnotic voice, the long journey, and the quiet night had caught up with her.
“I'm sorry. I was lying all over you. How very…embarrassing. And how on earth could I sleep with Brandon in danger?” Self-disgust weighted her voice. Her ease with Mr. Townsend betrayed not only Brand, but Henry as well.
“You'd fretted yourself into exhaustion. It's a cold night, and I'm large and warm.”
“Still, it's not…”
