Page 36 of Sir Hugo Seeks a Wife
“You didn’t try,” Athene said through her teeth.
“Not too hard.Can you blame me?I’m sick of you moping around like a rainy day in January.It’s putting the customers off.”
Athene narrowed her eyes on her friend – former friend – but couldn’t help noticing how that piece of information interested Sir Hugo.“I never go into the shop when you’ve got customers.”
“Well, you’re putting me off,” Sylvie retorted.
The bell over the door tinkled and Sylvie turned.“Sort yourselves out.But for heaven’s sake, do it quietly,” she hissed.Then more loudly and with a French accent.“Lady Bassenthwaite, how lovely to see you.How may I serve you today?”
Athene’s fists clenched at her sides as Sylvie shut the door behind her.She was stuck with the last person she wanted to see.Mainly because she’d done nothing but thirst for his presence since they’d parted.Now it would be twice as hard to accept that there could never be anything between them.“I’ll kill her.”
“She’s trying to help.”Sir Hugo moved forward and laid his stylish gray hat and gloves on the desk.“Don’t be angry with her.”
“She’s interfering,” Athene snapped without meeting his eyes.
“If you really want me to go, I’ll go,” he said softly.“I never want to cause you pain.”
Her gaze snapped up to his face.Because he had caused her pain.Oceans of it.She hadn’t seen him in over two weeks.She hadn’t seen him that much before then.His absence shouldn’t stab at her like a thousand knives.His absence shouldn’t stop her eating and sleeping and taking charge of her wayward thoughts.But somehow it did.
She’d assumed that she’d passed the age when she obsessed over a man.Especially given what her last infatuation had cost her.Had she learned nothing from the George debacle?
It seemed that she hadn’t.Sir Hugo gave her an opening to send him on his way, but instead of leaping on the opportunity, she sucked in an unsteady breath and lowered her shoulders.
Her attention, no longer clouded by shock and the wish to throttle her best friend, sharpened on his face.“You look terrible, too.”
He’d always seemed as invincible as a force of nature.His energy and purpose once made the very atmosphere vibrate.He didn’t look like that now.He was pale and drawn.Dark circles lay beneath sunken eyes.Deep lines ran between his nose and mouth.He looked like he’d aged ten years.
The self-confident hero could never have given her the bitter smile that now contorted his mouth.“I know.”
Athene waited for him to say something more about her lackluster appearance.His greeting proved that she had no chance of pretending that she wasn’t pining for him.
“What are you doing here, Sir Hugo?”She tried to sound calm and authoritative, but the question emerged husky and uncertain.
“I’ve come to see you.Obviously.”He glanced around the office, cluttered and untidy with papers and pens and notebooks.“Poetry not thriving?”
“I’ve lacked inspiration,” she admitted.
Despite the demands of self-preservation, she couldn’t help devouring him with her eyes.He looked tired and fed up and heartsick.He looked big and strong and gorgeous, and she itched to touch him.Her fingers twitched, as she fought the urge to rush up and grab him and never let him go.
“I’m surprised.I hear a broken heart is the perfect spur to creation.”
How easily he spoke of hearts.If she had an ounce of sense, she’d scoff at his claim, but the words died unspoken on her lips when his attention dropped to the betraying mess on her desk.The betraying mess on her desk…
She surged forward, but not to throw herself into his arms.With shaking hands, she scrabbled to collect the loose pages scattered across the blotter.“Don’t.”
But it was too late.Sir Hugo raised stunned blue eyes.“Were you going to send any of them?”
“I was only—”
“Writing to me.”
“It doesn’t mean anything.”It was a lie, and he’d know it.
With an unsteady hand, he picked up a sheet of paper that she’d missed.“‘Dear Sir Hugo, can you call at Sylvie’s shop?I must see you.I find…’”
Stinging heat invaded her cheeks.Overmastering embarrassment made her queasy.
“What did you find?”Without waiting for a reply, he dropped the page and picked up another.“‘Dear sir, If you…’” He winced.“Sir?Harsh.You can call me Hugo, you know, Athene.We’re hardly strangers.”
