Page 24 of His Perfect Bride
Her footsteps came to a halt.
He hastened to the doorway of his study and found that she’d paused near the servants’ hallway that led to the rooms at the back of the house.
“Yes, Mr. Lennox?” She had one hand on the door handle, obviously in a hurry to get to work. Or maybe she was in a hurry to get away from him.
Now that he’d initiated contact with her, what should he say?
Awkward silence settled between them. He tugged at his cravat which suddenly felt like it was strangling him. Without any windows, the back area of the hallway was shadowed, and he couldn’t see her expression. But if he’d been able to, he expected that he’d find aversion. After all, he’d been disgusted seeing himself.
“Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Lennox?” She spoke hesitantly, as if she was afraid he might lash out at her for saying the wrong thing.
“Yes, I do need help.” As soon as he spoke the words, he wanted to slap a hand to his forehead. What was he doing? Making up a reason to be near her?
She released her hold on the door handle and took a step back his way. “After how much I imposed upon you already?”
“You did not impose. Quite the opposite.”
“I’m relieved you see it that way.”
His mind scrambled to come up with any help he might need. But what? After she’d already organized everything, what was left? As oblivious as he was most of the time, he probably wouldn’t be able to spot a need even if it walked up to him and slapped him in the face.
With an exasperated breath, he scrubbed a hand down his shaggy beard. What could he possibly have her do?
Why did he need her to do anything? He could just ask for her forgiveness and let her be on her way. That would be the logical and sound thing to do. On the other hand, the desire to spend time with her was beginning to overshadow the need to do anything else today.
“I would be happy to help again, Mr. Lennox.” Thankfully her tone was genuine.
He slid his hands into his overgrown hair and tried to make himself think of something. But with her pretty blue eyes upon him waiting so expectantly, he couldn’t formulate any ideas.
Not only wasn’t he proficient in carrying on conversations with most people, but he’d been especially inept in talking with the fairer sex.
He jabbed his fingers deeper into his hair. “My hair.”
One of her eyebrows quirked. “Your hair?”
“Do you know how to cut hair?” The moment the question was out, he knew he needed to retract it. “No, no. I shouldn’t have asked. Forgive me. It’s ludicrous?—”
“Yes, actually. I can cut hair.”
He shook his head. What had he been thinking to ask her to do such a task? That was the trouble—he hadn’t been thinking. Even though he could solve the world’s most difficult mathematical equations, sometimes he felt like his brain couldn’t function well with normal, everyday things.
“I always cut my dad’s hair, and my sisters’.”
“I cannot subject you to mine. It is in a terrible state?—”
“I don’t mind.” She took a hesitant step toward him.
“Please forget I even mentioned it.”
She was silent a beat. “You would make Augusta very happy if you shaved and got a haircut before the dinner party tomorrow evening.”
“I would?” Augusta had suggested it on a couple of occasions, but he hadn’t known his doing so would actually make her happy.
“She truly cares about you the way you are,” Sage said quickly as though to reassure him. “But she has mentioned how much a haircut and shave would please her.”
He didn’t need reassurance of Augusta’s love. He knew his older sister loved him and always would, no matter how he looked or behaved. Yet, if he could do this one little thing to please her, then maybe he ought to do it.
“Very well,” he said before he could find an excuse. “Let us proceed with a haircut.”
