Page 23 of Bargaining for the Barrister
She glanced at his favorite maple tree, and she cleared her throat. He led her closer to it before she could remember something else about him that she found hysterical. They stopped at the tree’s trunk. He certainly hoped the gardener hadn’t imagined an owl up there. Searching the limbs, Paul wondered if the bird was out hunting like Miss Cox had guessed. He saw nothing between the leaves but darkness.
“Do you see anything?” Miss Cox asked.
Did the lower branches count? “I think it heard your laugh and flew away.” Her profile was in the shadows now, but he could easily make out her smile. Something had to be wrong with the woman. She was far too pleasant a person to be normal. He kept waiting to hear a hard edge to her voice that proved her frustration with him.
She nudged him, and he almost jumped from the touch. “You likely caused such a ruckus the day before yesterday that it chose an entirely different tree for its home.”
He tucked his arm in closer to his body. “I wasn’t that bad.”
“Now who is lying?”
“All right. It was the most humiliating moment of my life.” He bit the insides of his cheeks to keep from laughing himself and lifted his torch between two branches, praying he did not catch the tree on fire. He liked it more than he liked the girl next to him.
Miss Cox shifted and stepped on her toes to see better. The back of her head came close to his face, and he caught a sweet smell of lavender and vanilla. He unintentionally leaned closer to smell it again. Heavens, it was nice. Nicer than any tree. Blinking several times, he remembered what he was doing and tilted his head back again.
“Perhaps we’d have better luck in the daytime,” she said.
He did not want to give up yet, though he had every reason to jump at the opportunity her words presented. “Perhaps you simply need to call it down to us.”
She turned her face to his, her lips pressed together to keep from laughing again. “I’ll let you do the honors.”
If Paul weren’t set on a different course, this woman would be intriguing enough to consider. But as it was, he’d give her tonight as his apology and would go back to avoiding her tomorrow. “Very well. You cannot possibly think any less of me than you already do.” He cleared his throat and made his best impression of an owl hooting.
Miss Cox shook silently next to him.
“I thought that was pretty good,” he said, chuckling himself. It was difficult not to—her mood was contagious.
“Let me try.” She cleared her throat and gave a soft hoot like a mourning dove.
“Brilliant. We’ll have a whole flock of doves swooping down on us after that.”
She snickered. “You know, I think we are more likely to see doves than this owl.”
She was likely right, but he did not regret trying. “Shall we return to the path and try our hand at stargazing instead?”
When she nodded, they began walking back toward the house. The night air had cooled some, and the stars were bright above them. A faint hoot gave them pause.
“Was that you?” Miss Cox asked.
“I swear it was not.” They turned back to the tree. Suddenly, a large owl burst from the branches and soared over their heads. It glided across the gardens and in moments was out of view.
“It was there all along.” Paul put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Well, what did you think of our adventure?”
Miss Cox studied him out of the corners of her eyes, as if deliberating her answer. “It was a splendid ending.”
Her sweet smile that followed made his stomach react once more. “I would have to agree.” He didn’t mean for his voice to come out so soft and throaty. Miss Cox was getting to him, even after his strict lecture to himself after seeing Mortimer Gibbs. Between this interaction with Miss Cox and the last, he was sure he had kept his promise to his mother about the five questions—or he was at least close enough to wash his hands of it. His obligation would end as soon as they returned inside from stargazing—no matter what unexplainable, completely terrible, and somewhat enjoyable feelings he had at this moment. He had done his best to prove he was a good person, to remedy any hard feelings, but she was no Little George in need of his charity, and he did not have to succumb to her sweet smiles. Paul’s will would win over his weak heart this time. No matter what.
Chapter 10
Louisa sat at the littledressing table in her room and let her abigail, Nancy, twist her thick hair into a tight coiffure. As Nancy pinned it tight and shaped a few loose curls by Louisa’s temples, Louisa smothered a yawn, likely the result of tossing and turning much of the night, replaying her time with Mr. Sheldon and confusing herself. She should have told him last night of her decision to leave, but she had relished the chance to get to know the real Mr. Sheldon—he was quite charming when he was relaxed, with his softened brow and his handsome smile. She grimaced. Now she would have to explain it all this morning, and she was much too tired.
She had yet to inform her brother too. He had escaped their stargazing. When they’d returned inside after their night outing, it was late, and Logan had immediately taken up a deep conversation with the older Mr. Sheldon. Exhausted, she’d finally given up waiting to talk to him and gone to bed. Without her trunks packed and the carriage readied, it could be another full day before they could depart. She bit back a groan. Staying one more day would only prolong the inevitable. And it would also mean more opportunities to get attached to a certain person.
Pinching her cheeks to bring a little color to them, she added a tired smile and stood. “Thank you, Nancy. That will be all.”
She stood and stepped back to allow Nancy to pick up the scattered hairpins on the table. She glanced about the room, reminding herself that it was not hers. She couldn’t talk herself out of leaving now. She didn’t want to push Mr. Sheldon into marriage. She had not wanted that to happen to her, which was why she had chosen him in the first place. Marriage to him would free her from the determined fortune hunters Mr. Davies and Mr. Turner, but how did it benefit Mr. Sheldon? It was plain it did not. Mr. Sheldon’s moods and frustration were understandable. She had to go.
Louisa left her room and reluctantly made her way down to the dining hall.
