Page 12 of Bargaining for the Barrister
All smiles? Adorable? “Agreeable,” Paul said. “Very agreeable.”
“And her looks?”
His stomach sank. Paul wasn’t going to describe Miss Cox while the lady was in the room. Wasn’t yesterday’s time in the gardens sufficient humiliation? Miss Cox had justifiable cause to have him condemned to a madhouse. Ian raised an expectant brow, and Paul cleared his throat, knowing the deed must be done. “Brown hair. She has brown hair.”
“And?”
He raised a limp hand up in the air, indicating the height of the screen a few feet away. “She’s about this tall and has big eyes about here.” Paul motioned to his face. “And her nose is smallish.” He pushed his own nose in a bit to demonstrate. “Her lips are rather full and...” Paul didn’t blush easily, but his cheeks flamed with heat as he realized what he’d just described.
“Why were you looking at her lips?”
He shook his head like the act would free him from his self-incrimination. “I was not looking. I merely assumed they were full.”
“You are acting strange. Do not tell me you’ve changed your mind.” Ian glowered at him.
Paul waved his hands. “I did not change my mind, but I’d really rather you leave and we catch up later.”
Ian drew back. “Leave? What about our ride? What is going on here?”
Paul saw Miss Cox’s hair start to rise above the screen, and he melted in his seat, as if lowering himself would urge her to do the same. “Yes, leave now. I will explain later.” He could not get the words out fast enough.
“What are you staring at?” Ian turned in his seat, and Paul knew the moment he saw Miss Cox’s walnut hair. Ian shrieked, which was very un-Ian-like. His friend was in the next cushion over in a matter of seconds, with one leg brought up to his chest as if protecting himself from what he did not understand.
Miss Cox chose that exact moment to stand on tiptoes and peek over the edge of the screen. “As exciting as standing back here has been, I am not comfortable being discussed so openly.”
Paul covered his face with his hands and moaned. “You had better come out.” When he let his hands drop, Miss Cox moved to take the seat Ian had abandoned. Her soft smile was aimed at his friend.
“I am sorry for frightening you. I’m sure Mr. Sheldon has a perfectly good reason for deceiving you.” She turned her eyes to Paul. “You do, don’t you?”
Paul needed to stall. If he thought describing Miss Cox’s appearance was difficult, this was even worse. How could Ian not jump to conclusions after this? “I’d love to explain, but my friend Lord Reynolds and I were just about to go for a ride. When I get back, I promise to clear this whole thing up.”
“A valiant attempt, Paul, but a failed one all the same.” Ian sat up and folded his arms across his chest. “Go ahead and explain to Miss Cox. I won’t require an explanation, as I am perfectly capable of drawing an accurate assumption of my own.” He stood and bowed to Miss Cox. “Forgive me for leaving you alone with this idiot.” He turned to Paul and shook his head in disgust. “We’ll ride tomorrow. Until then, do try to keep your head on straight.”
Huh. A far tamer response than Paul had predicted from Ian. Clearly, he had been extremely foolish.
On Ian’s way out he murmured the words, “‘Very agreeable. Full lips.’ Such an idiot.”
Ian disappeared from view, and Paul cleared his throat. “Sometimes Lord Reynolds can be...” He scratched his nose as he thought of how to describe him. “A bit intimidating. I thought to spare you until I could first prepare you both... for each other.”
“Why would either of us need to be prepared for an introduction?”
Was that a glint of amusement in her eyes or just curiosity? And what was he to tell her? This was not a conversation he wanted to have with his new guest, but it seemed he must. He opened his mouth just as Mr. Cox walked in, throwing him a glance of annoyance. Paul was either saved or in even greater trouble than before.
“There you are, Isa. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. These letters arrived addressed to you.”
When Mr. Cox reached his sister, Miss Cox regarded the letters, and her smile grew tight. “I’d better take those upstairs to my room.” She stood and dipped a rushed curtsy. “Excuse me, Mr. Sheldon.” She took the letters from her brother’s hand and hurried from the room.
Was getting rid of her really as easy as all that? He’d been sure she was about to tease him a little longer. But it was no matter, for his actions were safe for a few more hours.
“The muttering man in the entry hall,” Mr. Cox began. “Is he your friend?”
Paul waved off the remark. “Lord Reynolds is as serious as your sister is happy. I daresay his muttering was evidence of how much he enjoyed his visit.”
Mr. Cox seemed to appreciate the sarcasm, for he sank into the sofa as if he wanted to converse a little longer. “And what of my sister? Did she enjoy her visit with you this morning?”
It was not hard for Paul to know when he was being baited. He’d had enough practice in court to discern the change in conversation for what it was. “Why not ask her yourself? I can only speak for my own level of enjoyment.”
“And what was that, if I may ask?” Mr. Cox’s clothes were tailored perfectly to him, the quality of the fabric and his pressing eyes saying more about him than his curt words. Paul prided himself in being a fair judge of character. A barrister met all sorts in court, and he’d had to learn that the nuances of a man’s clothes, posture, accent, and air said a great deal about him. If he had to guess, Mr. Cox was an aggressive businessman—a successful one at that—and extremely protective of his younger sister.
