Page 11 of Bargaining for the Barrister
The last year must’ve been very hard for her, but he tried not to appear overly sympathetic. He’d learned from his dealings with Mrs. Hammond how dangerous that could be. “Do you mean you like to pick up a new instrument or learn intricate stitches? I’m afraid I can only guess at your interests from such a statement.”
Her laugh was rather musical. “Your guess is not far from accurate, as I taught myself the violin this last year, though I profess to no real musical talent. And I do enjoy crafts of all kinds. But you could not predict what might interest me next, as even I do not know when something will strike my fancy.”
“Fascinating.” Had mourning made her forget what her true interests were? “Have you always been this way?”
“No... and yes. I used to be quite adventurous,” she said almost wistfully, “always hunting for wildflowers and dirtying my gowns, but I do not venture far from my house anymore. This pleases my brother, as it is more fitting for a young lady.” She waited, apparently expecting him to agree with her brother, but he was a Rebel, and Rebels did not think so black and white like Society did. When he did not respond, she pushed her smile higher on her cheeks. “My brother is rather pleased that I no longer charge head-on into situations either. But I still enjoy learning new things. For example, recently I have taken a keen interest in learning the law.”
His brow launched upward. “The law?” Why in heaven’s name would a woman want to learn the law as a way to pass the time? He’d spent more than half a decade studying it and had questioned his own motivations many times.
She nodded, her walnut-brown curls bouncing. “Reading helps me fall asleep. Last night I came down to the library to select a book and saw what must have been some of your law books. I became intensely curious, so I took one to bed. I hope you do not mind, as I returned it this morning. The cases I read were most intriguing.”
If she was looking for common ground, this would not convince him. At least she’d admitted to her lack of sleep. He swallowed. Miss Cox was clearly a bluestocking and as such would prove that much more difficult to dissuade should she be conspiring with his mother. An intelligent woman was a force to be reckoned with. He opened his mouth to ask a third question of a different topic when he heard a laugh in the corridor.
Ian.
Wretched luck! Ian had likely been waylaid by his mother, but how long could she hold him back? Paul could not be caught entertaining Miss Cox. His friend had good reason to be against arranged marriages since his parents’ marriage had been designed as such and Ian had little respect for his father and the way he treated Lady Kellen and him. He would be livid if he thought Paul was agreeing to such nonsense—to a contrived relationship doomed from the start.
There was no winning in this situation. Besides, Miss Cox would not stand a chance if Ian attempted to scare her away. The man could be ruthless when he was determined to guard his friends, and no one brought out Ian’s protective side like Paul. It had been that way since they were children—since the day Ian had met Mrs. Hammond. Even though Paul was perfectly capable of protecting himself now, from the harmless woman in front of him to the criminals he faced in court, he would not disappoint Ian. He owed him that.
He glanced at the door again, searching for an out. As much as he wanted to dismiss Miss Cox, it had to be done in a way that would not upset his mother or offend their guest. There was still a minuscule chance that she had brought Miss Cox here with honorable intentions, although his hope on that note was quickly waning.
Paul glanced to the decorative screen in front of the window and an unfortunate but necessary solution came to his mind. He stood and pointed to the screen. “Miss Cox, would you mind so very much standing behind this?”
“Me?”
“Yes, just for the briefest of moments. But please hurry.” Any second his mother would run out of excuses and Ian would enter. He could not ask for a better friend than Ian, except for situations like this—which, thankfully, Paul had never been in before.
Miss Cox looked at him like he was mad, but since he had no reason to impress her, he urged her once more. She reluctantly stood and came over to his side.
“Not so close.” He stepped away from her and pointed again to the screen. “As a favor, if you could just go behind there and stay hidden...” He ushered her with his hands, trying not to touch her, though pushing her behind it would have been a great deal more efficient.
She clearly didn’t want to go and only did so out of obligation. After she squeezed into the narrow space behind the six-paneled screen, he realized she was too tall. The screen was only about five feet in height, and she was a few inches taller, revealing her hair and most of her forehead over the top of it.
“If you could lower your head just a bit. There. Perfect.” He glanced back at the drawing room door, his heart rate starting to pick up.
“Mr. Sheldon, I do hope you’re not taking advantage of my adventurous spirit.”
“Not in the least. But do try not to talk, will you?”
Paul danced on his toes back to his seat right as Ian appeared in the doorway.
“What in the devil’s name was that?” Ian asked.
Paul had been attempting a nimble, noiseless walk, but it hadn’t been his most inconspicuous moment. “Just admiring the intricate artwork on this screen while waiting for you.” Smooth, Paul. He’d seen uneducated criminals lie better.
“I’m here now, so let’s go.”
Paul chewed on his lip and under his breath muttered, “I still have three questions left.”
Ian stared at him but walked to the sofa just in front of the screen and relaxed into the cushion. “You’re babbling, but I understand you must be under a great deal of stress with everything that’s happened to you in the last few days.” Then he chuckled. “When have you ever waited for me in the drawing room? Is this your way of asking me to take tea with you?”
Paul guffawed, his eyes darting to the top of the screen and back to Ian. “What an idea.”
“Never mind. Tell me about the woman.”
Paul sobered at once. There was a reason he did not usually act on his impulses. It never brought him any favors. Plans. Well-thought-out plans were the only way to combat his poor luck. “She’s a... woman.”
“I gathered that. What is she like?”
