Page 9 of The Time for Love
Concealing his annoyance at her attempt to dismiss him, he evenly asked, “As today is Saturday, I assume the works operates for only half the day.”
She eyed him levelly for several long moments, but eventually deigned to answer. “Yes.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “The whistle will sound in a few minutes, at one o’clock, and the works will close until Monday morning. We open at seven.”
Glancing from one to the other, Harvey added, “There will be a handful of men on duty tomorrow, to keep the furnaces stoked.”
Martin inclined his head. That was standard procedure for any decent-sized works.
On cue, the whistle shrieked—three short blasts.
Harvey still dithered, the tray in his hands.
She nodded to the secretary. “That will be all for today, Harvey.” She glanced sidelong at Martin. “I believe I’ll head home.”
“Indeed, miss.” Harvey turned to the open doorway. “After all the excitement, you should take things easy.”
Watching Miss Carmichael’s face, Martin saw her lips tighten as she suppressed a no doubt pithy retort. Taking things easy after being threatened wasn’t her style.
It wasn’t—most definitely wasn’t—his, either.
He picked up his hat and cane and patiently waited while, pointedly ignoring him, she tidied her desk and drew her bag and gloves from a desk drawer. When she straightened, he waved to the door. “I’ll escort you home.”
She rounded the desk—on the far side from him—and met his gaze with a bland, rather distant expression. “No need.” She silenced all protest by adding, “My groom will be waiting to accompany me home.”
He allowed his brows to rise fractionally and followed her into the office’s foyer. Sure enough, a solid-looking individual in a neat and unremarkable suit waited beside the outer door.
The older woman was just leaving. She nodded to Miss Carmichael, including Martin in the gesture, then looked meaningfully at the groom as he moved to hold open the door. “Good afternoon, Hector.”
Martin would have sworn some unvoiced communication passed between the pair, then the older woman stepped out and walked off.
Harvey was busy putting away the tea things. “I’ll lock up, Miss C.”
Miss Carmichael nodded. “Very well. I’ll see you on Monday.” With that, she walked to the door and stepped out, onto the pavement.
Martin followed at her heels. As he passed Hector, he wasn’t entirely surprised to receive a respectful nod; he suspected the older woman, and possibly Harvey, too, had already told Hector what had happened that morning.
Good.
Martin settled his hat on his head and, with two long strides, caught up with Miss Carmichael. In silence, they walked down Bailey Lane toward the corner of Portobello Street.
They’d almost reached the corner when she glanced at him. “This really isn’t necessary.”
A half smile on his lips, he swung his cane. “We’re heading in the same direction. Why not walk together?”
Her eyes narrowed on his face. “Where are you staying?”
“At the Kings Head.”
“In that case”—she halted at the corner—“we part company here.” She held out her hand. “Once again, thank you for your assistance today.”
He grasped her gloved fingers and felt the frisson of reaction that streaked through her, setting his senses slavering. Keeping his relaxed mask in place, he returned, “I’m glad I was there to help.”
He forced himself to ease his hold, and she swiftly retrieved her hand.
Regally polite, she nodded. “I hope you enjoy your stay in our town, sir.”
“From all I’ve learned today, I’m sure I will, Miss Carmichael.” He tipped his hat to her. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
Her eyes flashed bright fire, and her lips tightened ominously, but after a second’s pause, she turned and walked away.
