Page 15 of Bargaining for the Barrister
Finally, he stepped back, allowing her to exhale audibly. She was in over her head. She had not planned to be attracted to her future husband.
“I cannot wait to learn more about your brother’s ventures,” Mr. Sheldon said. His voice was controlled, whereas she hardly dared believe herself capable of speaking. “Oddly enough, Mr. Cox is as reluctant as you are to discuss it with me.” He stared hard into the empty fireplace, as if his gaze would spark life beneath the hearth.
Her smile faltered. His suspicions would not help a thing, and a one-sided attraction was hardly a step forward. In fact, his sudden guarded posture made her feel like things had gone backward. She needed to regain their lost ground before Lord Reynolds returned. There was no chance of a marriage occurring without a simple friendship as a foundation first. All she could think to do was attempt to lighten the mood. “Perhaps my brother is hesitant to trust a man who has the same skills as a jester from the circus.”
His gaze flicked back to hers. “A jester? You told him about—”
“Everything.” She sighed heavily, praying it would work.
“Even the part where I... you know?”
Was he referring to the part where his head had nearly landed on her chest in his sleep-drunken stumble? Or the way he had hidden her behind the screen in the drawing room? He was far easier to tease than her brother, but she also sensed an underlying worry that he had not behaved as he ought. “What part was that?” she asked, her tone innocent. She’d rather hear it from his lips than hers.
He grinned. It was the first real smile she had seen from him, and her knees wobbled at the sight.
“I don’t know. The part where you and I went on a secluded walk in the gardens that was all your idea? Or where you snuck down to the library in the middle of the night to go through my things? Or perhaps where you stared much too openly, as you are doing just now? Which should I tell him? Surely, he does not know the whole story.”
She gaped. That was not the response she had expected. She quickly turned away so he would not think she was still staring.
“Forgive me,” Mr. Sheldon said with a laugh. “I should not have teased you.”
“Never mind. I teased you first.” She just had not predicted he would return the favor. But then again, nothing about this whole thing had been at all predictable, so why should Mr. Sheldon be?
“I likely deserved it after this morning.”
“You did deserve it.” Louisa pushed back a curl off her forehead. “But I could never have ratted you out. I did not tell my brother anything about our time in the gardens or about this morning, as you had probably already guessed.”
He chuckled, revealing his two subtle dimples. “Your brother would have skewered me with this fire poker had he known that I...” He pulled at his cravat. “Well, you know.”
It was her turn to laugh. “I know better than anyone.”
“Sheldon!” Lord Reynolds said sharply behind her.
Paul looked away from her to his friend. “Yes?”
“I leave you for five minutes, and already you’re laughing together and standing much too close.”
Paul’s cheeks were naturally a little ruddy, but the red color deepened. “Stop imagining what isn’t there,” he grumbled.
Was that what had happened to her? She’d imagined the electric tension from his too-near presence? No, Louisa knew what she had felt. And she dared wonder if he had felt it too. But was a glimpse of a connection enough to build on? Mr. Sheldon was wary and on edge, and she could not force what he would not welcome. His friend would be no help either.
Why Lord Reynolds was so protective of his friend and so against her she could not say. It was not as if she were asking him to marry her. In fact, there was not even a proposal on the table at all. A man and a woman could make friendly conversation after eating together without casting suspicion. She laughed inwardly at herself. Never mind. Everything about her presence was extremely suspect, no matter how much she wanted it to be otherwise.
Chapter 7
Paul arrived at the Domejust after church services for the first Regent’s Rebel meeting of the summer. Several other horses were already tied to the white picket fence, so it looked like he was last to arrive. Had it truly been a year since they had all been together? As much as he disliked being the reason for this particular meeting, he was happy to have the old crew back together. A small thrill went through his spine, reminding him of the many secret adventures that had all begun here.
He dismounted Starling, his prized gray Turk, and led him to a spot between the other horses. With quick work, he tied Starling to the fence surrounding the Dome. Not every property had a structure originally built as a temple dedicated to the Roman goddess of victory, but Ian had eccentric relatives who’d thought erecting a two-story octagonal building with a domed top and arched windows, in the vogue Palladian style, would outlast the passage of time. Paul was grateful for it, though, since it had evolved into Ian’s domain, where he could escape his overbearing father and plot with his friends.
Paul paused to stroke Starling’s nose, almost wishing he could sell him without offending his father. The horse would fetch a pretty price. “Not today, Starling. It seems you and I are meant to be, and I will not complain.” He dropped his hand and let himself in the gate, jogging up the stairs to the door. He knocked twice and let himself inside. There were no servants or fuss here, which was just as the Rebels liked it.
“Ah, Fisher is finally here,” Tom announced from his seat next to Lisette. Tom had nicknamed them all years before to aid their secrecy during their escapades, and it never failed to make Paul smile. Though, since they had known each other since childhood, they often fell back on calling each other by their given names while in the privacy of the Dome.
It had been some months since Paul had seen Tom since Lord and Lady Felcroft hadn’t gone to London for the Season this year and had taken their family traveling on the Continent. There was a hint of seriousness behind his mischievous smile that was new and made him look more like the future Baron Felcroft than ever before.
Paul turned to the others and put his hand over his heart, bowing ceremoniously as they’d done since they were children—a club greeting.
“You’re late,” Ian said from his favorite chair—an ugly overstuffed sea-green seat. Tom had nicknamed it the throne of putrid. “Let’s begin our meeting, then, shall we? Paul, if you’ve decided to submit to that scheming woman and get married, we can move on to the next order of business without further ado.”
