Page 10 of Bargaining for the Barrister
A knock sounded on the door, and before he could call out the word enter, his mother crossed the threshold with an excited air about her. “Excellent! You are dressed. You missed breakfast, you know.”
“I did not have much of an appetite, Mama.” He didn’t normally sleep late, but last night had been the second with not much sleep. As he always did when he had a particularly messy case, he’d stayed up late seeking a clear solution to his current situation. Yesterday had been trying indeed.
“Here, let me.” Mama ushered his valet to the side and tweaked the knot on his cravat. “It’s too loose.” She fiddled with it for a moment. “You work too hard, you know. Your father and I would love if you would accept an allowance like other gentleman’s sons and put this law business behind you.”
“You know I cannot.” With lips pinched tight, he breathed deeply through his nose, dreading where this was going.
“Oh, I know you’re passionate about being independent, but we’d like to see you settled down with a wife and children. We’d hoped your pursuing the law was to help you run the estate after you’d inherited, not for it to become a permanent career.”
They’d had this conversation too many times. “This is who I am—the path I’ve chosen for myself.” He stepped back and assessed her. She looked healthier than he’d seen her in some time, so pressing her came a little easier. “What is it you really want to say?” He hoped it was a confession about this matchmaking business so they could put this nonsense behind them.
“Just that I told Miss Cox to wait in the drawing room because you had hoped to speak with her.”
“Mama!” This was going too far.
“I’m not suggesting you propose marriage to her—just visit with her. I know I’m putting you out, but Miss Cox has had such a difficult year. At only nineteen, to miss an entire Season because she’s in mourning... it’s simply too much for my sensibilities. When Lady Kellen asked if we would take her in while her own guest rooms were being redecorated, I could not say no. I dearly want her to feel welcomed and loved here. Won’t you visit with her for a little while?”
He could not believe this was the truth, but he’d never known his mother to lie to him before. “I am sorry for her situation, truly I am, but Ian is coming over so we might go riding together. You really ought to check with me first next time.”
“I did not think you would already have plans.” Mama put her fingers to her mouth and nibbled on her nails. “She will be so disappointed. I’m not sure how to entertain one so young and pretty.”
“It is not any harder to entertain the pretty than the not so pretty.” Paul couldn’t hold back his bite of sarcasm. He hated to say anything that would hurt her feelings, but even a good son had his limits. Still, the wilted look on his mother’s face was all it took for him to regret his words. Dash it all. “If I sit with her until Ian arrives, will that suffice?”
“Thank you, Paul. You’re such a good boy.”
Paul rolled back his tight shoulders, where his stress normally settled, making his back pop. “Just until Ian comes, remember. Then she is your responsibility.” He started toward the door, ready to have the whole business over with.
“Yes, I know it,” Mama said, following him. “There’s just one more thing.”
He reached for the door but reluctantly dropped his hand. “What?”
“Might you ask her ten or... twenty questions about herself? Just so she thinks you are in earnest about being her friend?”
Paul scowled. “I do not want her to get the wrong idea. It would be better if we sit in contented silence.”
“Paul!” Mama whined. “You wouldn’t!”
“No, I wouldn’t,” he agreed with a sigh. “Very well, I will ask her five questions.”
“Promise? All of different topics?”
“I promise. But if Ian comes early, keep him out of the house.” If Ian thought he was caving to his mother and therefore paving the way for more matchmaking nonsense for the rest of the neighborhood, his friend’s temper would be impossible to endure.
Paul fled his bedchamber after that, not wanting to tempt his mother to add any more expectations to what would be a very short visit with Miss Cox. He arrived at the drawing room all too soon and let himself in.
Miss Cox stood and curtsied. He tried to avoid looking directly at her as he dipped into a short bow, remembering all too well the embarrassing incident from the day before, but she proved rather impossible not to notice. Once raised to his full height, he wasted no time crossing the room to a chair as far from hers as possible. There were at least twelve feet between them, and a very ugly Persian rug. Now to make this visit as quick and painless as possible. Questions. He should start with the questions.
“Miss Cox,” he began, “did you sleep well?”
She stifled a rather large yawn before he could finish his sentence. With her lips pressed tight to hide it, she smiled and smoothed the skirt of her pale-blue muslin gown as if nothing had happened. “My bed was as soft as a cloud.”
So she had slept terribly and was too polite to say otherwise. Why did she not look haggard? She ought to have the courtesy to appear ill. It would certainly make his job of ignoring her easier. “Please let me know if there is anything I can do to increase your comfort while you are here.” There. His mother would find no fault in his behavior today.
“Thank you,” she said.
Question two was ready on his lips. “How do you spend your time at home?” He tried to ask in a disinterested manner, but blast, her constant smile was unnerving, and he could not bring himself to look away from her.
She thought for a moment. “In the abundance of time I had at home during my mourning period, I discovered I like to try new things. I have a very eclectic taste now.”
