Page 20 of His Perfect Bride
“No. I was unkind and could have spoken much more graciously?—”
“I’m completely to blame for everything. I was the one who was unkind and should have been much more gracious.”
She wouldn’t argue with him on that score. He should have been nicer. “That doesn’t excuse my behavior.”
“You were—are—a saint compared to me.”
That was the trouble. As hard as she’d always tried to be a saint, she had failed to be one.
He took a step backward and cocked his head toward his desk. “I have no right to ask you this, not after the way I’ve treated you, but I would be greatly obliged if you would show me how I might organize the new drawings.”
She hesitated. She’d said what she needed to and ought to go on her way.
“I promise I will keep thebeastcaged.” His emphasis on the wordbeastdidn’t seem to contain any anger or vengeance. Instead, his eyes held a warm plea, one that seemed to be asking her for a second chance.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you that.”
“It’s true. I have been beastly and deserve the censure.” He ran his fingers through his unruly hair. “So what do you say? Will you lend me your keen insights again?”
How could she refuse him? Not when his expression was filled with hope and sincerity.
“I don’t know what more I can do. But I can at least take a look at what’s on your desk.”
He stepped back even farther and waved her ahead of him into the study. “Thank you, Miss Rhodes.”
As she made her way to his desk, a tiny thrill whispered through her. He liked her organizational skills, asked for her help, thought she had something valuable to add to his work. Nothing like that had ever happened to her before.
She positioned herself in front of the diagrams once again strewn about in disorder. “I will likely be able to help you better if I know what I’m looking at. Will you explain everything to me?”
He moved to stand beside her. “Really?” His voice held surprise.
“Yes. Really.”
He hesitated only a moment before telling her about the various parts of the bridge, and even though most of the details were beyond her comprehension, she grasped enough to have a basic understanding of what he was doing.
When they finished organizing the diagrams again, he pulled out another stack of papers from one of his drawers—a stack she hadn’t seen yesterday—and they started going through those next.
This time he didn’t need any prodding to explain the original designs for the suspension bridge, his first drafts. Together they put them into a progression from the first until the last, stopping along the way to discuss the differences and changes.
“What are you two doing?” The question from the doorway interrupted Sage’s thoughts as she shifted the papers on Jackson’s desk.
She paused to find Augusta entering the study, her eyes wide as she took in Sage sitting in Jackson’s chair while Jackson stood beside her.
Sage looked down in surprise. When had she ended up in his chair?
She glanced to the window to find that the afternoon had passed into evening. How long had she been in Jackson’s study?
It felt like it had only been minutes. But maybe it had turned into hours.
Augusta’s gaze shifted between her and Jackson several times. She didn’t appear angry that Sage had neglected her duties. Instead, her eyes held only curiosity. “Gustave said that the two of you were shouting at each other yesterday. So I didn’t expect to find you working together today.”
Sage quickly pushed back from the desk and stood. “I was helping Mr. Lennox organize his study.”
“I asked for her help,” Jackson cut in.
“Not to worry, ma’am.” Sage sidled past Jackson and started toward Augusta. “I finished the dining room.”
“I’m not worried.” Augusta was still studying the two of them as though trying to make sense of finding them together. Sage didn’t understand it either. What had come over her to linger so long?
