Page 83 of An Innocent Maid for the Duke
When she entered the office, a weary-looking Jacob looked up. His eyes flared with something warm and welcoming. But as he shot to his feet, his expression shuttered, revealing only the cold, remote facade she had come to dread.
What little hope she had nurtured around the coming interview dwindled. So be it.
* * *
‘You should not be here.’ Jacob was appalled at the harshness of his tone.
Rose gave him a cold glare. ‘Why not? I used to work here. Remember?’
He raked the hair that would insist on falling forward back from his face, using the time to get his brain into some sort of working order. ‘You are no longer employed here.’
She flung a bundle of documents down in front of him. ‘Apparently, I am no longer employed anywhere.’
She sounded angry. Bitter. He frowned at the papers in their neat red ribbon, the seal dangling off the edge of the table.
‘Please, Rose, sit down so we can discuss this like sensible adults.’
For a moment, from the stubborn set of her jaw, he thought she would refuse, but then, to his inordinate relief, she sat.
He followed suit, leaning back, trying to look relaxed. As if nothing was wrong. As if he didn’t want to leap across the table and kiss away her anger.
He deserved her anger.
‘Tell me why you are here.’ He kept his voice cool, distant, barely interested. He could not afford to show any emotion where she was concerned. When it came to Rose, passion begot yet more passion. He could not allow it ever again.
She stiffened. A scowl formed on her face. ‘I came about that.’ She pointed at the papers.
He curled his lips into a hard smile. ‘What, isn’t it enough?’ An unexpected pang of disappointment struck him behind the sternum. He’d thought she’d be pleased.
She gestured impatiently. ‘I want to know why you are giving it me.’
She must be more upset than he’d realised if her grammar was failing her. He wanted to hold her and tell her everything would be all right. He couldn’t do it. Not if he were to retain any semblance of common sense. What he had to do was make her take his offer and go away.
Then he might be able to introduce some normality into his life.
‘It is a gift, Rose,’ he said with a hint of irony he despised the moment he used it. He ploughed on. ‘A gentleman always gives a lady a gift when they part company. Most of my other ladies preferred jewels.’
She flinched.
He wanted to hit someone. Or have someone hit him as he deserved for causing her pain. This was for the best, though. He had to keep that in mind. He shrugged with what he hoped was idle nonchalance, though his shoulders felt tight. ‘I thought you might like that better. If I am wrong, I would be happy to provide something else. Or more. Name it.’ He’d do anything to make sure she was happy. Even let her go.
The fury in her eyes was a good thing, but not the underlying hurt. His fist clenched on his thighs beneath the table. Carefully he relaxed them. It would not do to show his inner turmoil.
He watched her gaze drop to the package, saw her frown. He held his breath, wondering what she would say, hoping she would take his gift. It was what she had said she wanted. That and her family which as yet he’d been unable to find. He had not given up hope on that front, but he would not say anything until he was sure.
Not that he would be saying anything to Rose on any matter. It would be dealt with through his man of business.
‘So,’ she said, musingly, ‘when you decided on this, you thought to give me my heart’s desire.’
His heart stuttered in his chest. How easily she saw through him. ‘Something of the sort, I suppose. You did mention your dream to open a dressmaker’s shop more than once.’
She gave a little nod of acknowledgement.
He started to relax. To feel a sense of satisfaction. She would accept his gift. Relief trickled warm along his veins.
‘But you see, Westmoor,’ she continued, ‘it was a dream I wanted to earn by my own efforts, not have it handed to me on a plate at a mere whim.’
‘You did earn it.’
