It was over before she could fully comprehend what had happened. To anyone watching it would have looked like nothing more than a thoughtless show of interest on his part, but to her, it had been like a lightning bolt to every sensitive part of her body.
“Mr. Cooper,” Mr. MacNeil said as if he’d not just turned her legs to jelly. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Likewise,” Mr. Cooper said with a forced smile suggesting he didn’t agree with what he was saying. “We were just talking about you. I was ready to bet you wouldn’t show.”
“And yet,” Mr. MacNeil said while meeting the other man’s gaze head on. “Here I am.”
“So you are,” Mr. Cooper murmured while taking a sip from the champagne he’d just snatched off a passing tray. “What a relief.”
“I actually think you might believe it is in a moment,” Mr. MacNeil said. “You see, I’ve just learned there are talks of building a cast-iron arch bridge across the river Severn in Gloucestershire. The tender will be announced next week, but I was thinking you might want to—”
“Who’s in charge of the project?”
“You’ll want to speak with Mr. Hugh Lewis. Are you familiar with him?”
“We’ve met.” Mr. Cooper glanced about. “In fact, I saw him only an hour ago when I arrived, but then…”
To his credit, he stopped himself from suggesting Charlotte had gotten in the way of what could be a lucrative deal for him. Not that she cared. If she had to choose between writing her next novel and spending time with Mr. Cooper, she would choose work as well. With Mr. MacNeil however, the decision wasn’t as easy to make. In fact, she was starting to fear he might have the power to lure her away from the one thing that filled her with purpose and joy. He might even be able to make her forget that the only reason he was here right now was because she was paying him to attend.
And yet, she was more than eager to lose herself in the pretense if only for a night. The future she had planned would not include him or any other man for that matter. Her chance to savor this feeling of being desired was fleeting. Even if it was just an illusion, Charlotte had no wish to squander a single second.
With this in mind, she addressed Mr. Cooper. “Perhaps you would like to go find him?”
“I probably shouldn’t leave you alone.”
With Mr. MacNeil.
The unspoken words were implied by the uncertain look he sent the large Scotsman.
“It’s all right,” Charlotte said. “There are plenty of other guests about and my cousins did say they would find me as soon as they’d spoken with some of their friends.”
Mr. Cooper gave her a pensive look. Eventually he nodded. “Please don’t go anywhere. I won’t be long and when I return I’d like to escort you to supper.”
“Of course.” Charlotte added a sweet smile and waited.
Mr. Cooper turned to Mr. MacNeil. “I’m still hoping you’ll find time to show me your company. Perhaps we can agree on a day and time later this evening?”
Mr. MacNeil answered with a tight smile. “Of course.”
Seemingly satisfied with this response, Mr. Cooper turned and walked away with a clipped stride. Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief.
“I thought he’d never leave,” Mr. MacNeil said, echoing her unspoken thoughts.
She glanced at him. “I was starting to doubt you would show. After all, you’ve always been punctual before.”
“I’m sorry if I gave you reason to worry.” The soft murmur of his voice added a sense of intimacy to his words even though he’d dropped the brogue for the evening.
“I wasn’t worried.” To suppose such a thing would mean she cared. Oh, but you do. She’d never admit it. “Merely surprised.”
“So…you didn’t miss me at all?”
“Not in the least.” Why on earth did she sound so breathy? “Your absence was more of an inconvenience really.”
“Is that so?” A hint of mirth clung to a throaty growl.
Goodness.
His voice alone filled her head with the sort of imaginings no unmarried lady ought to be capable of having. Combined with the spicy sent of bergamot he exuded and her knowledge of what he looked like without his perfectly tailored clothes, he’d managed to turn her into a mess of riotous emotion and indefinable yearning. Somehow, with each additional second spent in his company, her body craved something more – something new and unfamiliar, yet so incredibly basic it felt essential to her existence.
“Have you learned anything new about the Avery Carlisle theft since the last time we spoke?” She had to drag her mind away from her inappropriate musings. Only danger lurked in that direction, not to mention the risk of humiliation when Mr. MacNeil explained he’d just been playing a part and that she was wrong to have read any more into it than that. After all, she had practically coerced him into pretending he loved her.
Unfortunately, her father still insisted she marry Mr. Cooper. It was as if the earl had gotten a fixed idea in his head and refused to be swayed from it no matter what. Not even Mr. MacNeil’s success at ingratiating himself had made her father relent.
Not that it mattered. As soon as Mr. Cooper was gone she’d break things off with Mr. MacNeil and…
No. She still needed another one hundred pounds to afford the property she wished to purchase. One hundred and forty if she took into account the money she’d have to pay Mr. MacNeil next week. Gazing at the man whose help she’d come to rely on more than she’d ever expected, she prayed he’d offer some hope with regard to her missing novel, no matter how small.
“Unfortunately, I’ve not had a great deal of time to learn more since yesterday morning when we last spoke.” He’d accompanied her to Mrs. Lowell’s charity event at St. Agatha’s Hospital while her father and Mr. Cooper visited Parliament.
“I see.”
“But I’ve done some additional thinking.” He gazed at her intensely. “The crime makes no sense unless the thief was after a very specific piece of work. Now, I had a man stop by Carlisle & Co. to ask for a list of the stolen properties and what their anticipated worth would be, but Mr. Carlisle, with whom the man met, was less than helpful. He refused to offer up any information about the authors.”
“And rightfully so,” Charlotte said. “That sort of thing is confidential. If he were to hand it out to anyone who asks and word about it got out, any author published by Carlisle & Co. would lose faith in the company. Surely you can see that.”
“As a matter of fact, I can. Indeed, I must confess to respecting Mr. Carlisle more for proving to be a man of principal, but it doesn’t help me in any way. As it is, I believe the culprit must have been someone in their employ.”
Charlotte shook her head. “The door was forced open. Things were scattered about in disarray as if someone unfamiliar with the place had been searching for something in haste.”
“Indeed they were. In fact, I’m inclined to believe the entire thing was staged for the sole purpose of making us think it was simply a random break-in. But it wasn’t. I’m certain of that. Which means we must figure out who, besides the employees, might have known you and the other authors had work lying about the office during the time of the robbery. Because the thief wasn’t after the money, Miss Russell. That much I can guarantee.”