Page 25 of Bargaining for the Barrister
Her brow rose, no doubt shocked he would seek her out instead of avoid her as he had done the last few days. “Would the library be a suitable location?” she asked.
“No.” He couldn’t risk his mother stumbling upon them and construing any more ridiculous conclusions about them. After last night, he had committed to end this for good, and he wanted to find a secluded place nearby before anyone could talk him out of it. “Let’s walk this way.” Miss Cox did not question him. She trusted far too easily. In his case, she had nothing to worry about, but it would be all too simple for someone else to take advantage of her. He smothered the agitating thought. He was not her prospective husband, and it was not his right to concern himself over her well-being.
They walked past the guest rooms and up another flight of stairs to the attic. He was either mad for taking her here, or desperate.
Both. Definitely both.
He unbolted the door and pushed it open, nearly choking on the dust. Didn’t the servants ever clean up here?
Miss Cox peered past him into the room and then gave him a curious look. “You want to talk in the attic?”
“Just for a few minutes, and the door will remain open. I give you my word as a gentleman, my intentions are pure.”
“You aren’t going to murder me and hide my body in here?”
He gave a short laugh. “Why would I hide your body in the house? I hope you believe I am smarter than that.”
Her smile lifted in one corner. “Very well.” She lifted the hem of her dress and entered the attic room crowded with crates full of odds and ends and old furniture. He entered behind her, leaving the door open as promised. Natural light filtered in through the windows, highlighting a few cobwebs.
“I can’t wait to hear your explanation for bringing me here.”
Paul smoothed the back of his hair. “Yes, well, it’s a bit of a surprise for me too. I wasn’t planning on having this conversation in a musty room with treasures that haven’t been seen in this era, but it affords a bit of privacy otherwise limited in this house.”
She gave him another peculiar look, one he no doubt deserved. They walked the length of the long room, weaving through pieces of the Sheldon family relics while he tried to compose the words in his head. When they reached the end of the narrow room, he stopped to peer out through the window, still unsure how to begin. Miss Cox lifted a holland cover next to him.
“Wonderful. Chairs.” She held her hand out to him. “Handkerchief?”
He scrunched his brow, guessing what she’d use it for, but produced his handkerchief anyway. She accepted it and wiped down first one chair and then another, moving them so they faced each other. With a flick of her wrist, she handed the now black handkerchief back to him.
He accepted it with two fingers. “Thank you,” he grumbled.
Miss Cox took her seat and motioned for him to do the same. “Might as well make ourselves comfortable for this spontaneous discussion.”
This woman was an anomaly. Whatever he said or did, she acted unaffected. If he asked her to follow him into a dungeon, she probably wouldn’t have hesitated. “Nothing ever riles you, does it?”
“Hmm?”
“I thought it was because you were too trusting, but I am beginning to think you are simply recklessly brave.”
She frowned—the first one he’d seen from her. “I’m not following.”
“Never mind.” He set his handkerchief on a crate and took his seat. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time, as I know you are anxious to read this morning, so I will get right to it.”
“And you have your case to work on,” she added.
He gaped. She had a tendency to do that too—care more for the details of his life than she should. “Yes, my case. Anyway, I wanted to speak to you about—” The door to the attic slammed shut. Paul jumped to his feet.
Miss Cox set her hand lightly on his arm for a brief moment. He stared at it but forced himself not to jerk away. “It was likely the draft that caused it to shut,” Miss Cox said. “You’d better say your piece before you lose your courage.” She removed her hand and nodded as if prompting him to go ahead.
“Oh.” He sat back down, his pulse racing. The door had startled him, but when he thought through her words and simple touch, he realized they’d had a similar effect on his nerves. She’d recognized his emotions—his need to get this off his chest—but likely not his purpose for speaking with her. He leaned toward her to emphasize the seriousness of what he was about to say, locking eyes with hers. They were like two sapphire pools with endless depths, and he knew she was ready to listen to whatever it was he had to say. Suddenly the attic was a little too warm for his taste.He had better speak quickly. Remaining in a closed-off room would ruin the very purpose for this conversation.
“Where was I?” He cleared his throat. “Oh yes. Miss Cox, I know you are here at my mother’s request. I overheard her and Lady Kellen speaking about arranging a match for me. That person is you, is it not?”
Miss Cox blinked several times, and her smile faltered. “Yes.”
He folded his arms across his chest, not expecting to receive such an easy answer from her. “You should know your presence here is unnecessary. I have no intention of marrying in the near future.” Blast—his stern barrister tone added a harshness to his words he had not intended. He should have tried for a gentler approach.
“I see. You would not even consider marrying Miss Fielding or Miss Manning?”
