Her name wouldn’t be on his list then. Her shoulders relaxed. This man had to be one of the strangest gentlemen she had ever met. Having a list of every possible match he could make seemed to peg him as a social climber. But was there such a thing as climbing within reason?
“You don’t need to answer. I was just curious. Gentlemen are hard to read sometimes, and I would like to understand them a bit, so I don’t make mistakes while in their company.”
“Mistakes like robbing them of their wax and then hiding behind curtains?”
The lines around his mouth were still there. Patience tried to keep a straight face, for he was being serious. But she failed. Her lips quivered despite being pressed tightly together.
“Mistakes like interrupting said gentleman before he had a chance to finish his proposal.” She leaned forward, encroaching upon his space. “Do you think I could have held you to it?”
His mouth dropped open, and he put a hand to his hip. “I called you Miss Morgan. It was an obvious mistake.”
“But the way you caressed my wrist and finger—” She raised her eyebrows suggestively, and his reaction was instantaneous. His immense chest filled with air, and he leaned forward. She regretted her earlier movement forward; he was now only inches from her. This man’s shoulders were broad and thick, his neck much wider than Nicholas’s. Provoking him to this extent might not be the best of ideas.
His words were slow and distinct. “There was wax on your wrist and finger.”
She should be careful, but something about his stoic attitude just made her want to reach under his carefully guarded shell. “So you wouldn’t have caressed Miss Morgan’s fingers?” His eyes narrowed. “Perhaps that is the reason you are not yet engaged.”
His shoulders dropped, and all the exasperation she had seen building in him left. He paced back and forth between the window and the fireplace. He groaned softly and then craned his neck to look at her. “Do you think that would help?” He pulled at the bottom of his sleeves. “You have asked me about the inner workings of a gentleman’s mind. Now I would like to ask you about the workings of a woman’s. If I were to push the line a bit . . . touch her cheek, caress her fingers like you said, do you think she would be more likely to push her parents to agree to an engagement? I know she wants to marry me, but she seems to be in no rush.”
He looked desperate. Her interest in gentlemen was just that—interest—but he was sincere. His strange, piercing eyes looked at her with hope, as if a few touches of his lady’s hand could finally give him his heart’s desire. What would it be like to be longed for like that? Patience’s earlier ideas of this man being a social climber faded. Despite his methods, he seemed to truly care for this Miss Morgan.
She wasn’t looking forward to entering society and pushing away the men who were interested in her for her position. But what if one of them was earnest like this man was? A man who was led to her because of her title but who cared for her nonetheless? “Who are you?”
He shook his head and straightened his back. His features were once again schooled in that serious way, with lines around his mouth and eyes. “Didn’t I ask you that first?”
“Yes, and I answered. I am the maid.”
“Well if you are a maid here, you should know who I am, for I will be the one paying for your service.”
“But I thought this was General Woodsworth’s home.”
“Oh, it is, but he is in Brighton for the next month, and since I never have to go anywhere, I take care of the finances.”
“And that makes you . . . ?”
“You are quite bold for a misbehaving servant on her first day. But as long as you are willing to not spread rumors, I will introduce myself. I’m Mr. Anthony Woodsworth. General Woodsworth’s son.”
Chapter 4
Anthony laid his card down, taking the final trick. He raised an eyebrow at Miss Morgan, and she gave him her pleasant, simpering smile. They had won again. Mr. and Mrs. Hibble excused themselves from the table. Apparently they could only tolerate losing for so long.
“Well done, Mr. Woodsworth,” Miss Morgan said. “You always play so well.”
“Yes. If only my father cared for cards, I would finally have a way to impress him.”
Miss Morgan laughed. The bell-like quality echoed throughout the small Hibble drawing room. It wasn’t often he had the opportunity to converse with Miss Morgan and her family in such an intimate gathering. She was no different today than she had been last week. Their relationship was still stuck in the same standstill that it had been for over a year. After getting his hopes up that she had come to visit him yesterday, it was hard to move backward into their familiar routine.
“Have your parents said anything of late about my pursuit of you?”
Miss Morgan’s eyes widened. “No.”
“They must know my interest.”
“Well, yes, but we don’t talk about it.” She leaned forward with a pout on her small, bud-like lips. “Especially not in public.”
Anthony barely managed to suppress a groan. Instead he made a short, almost growl-like noise that couldn’t have been any better. “We only ever see each other in public. Where else would you have me talk about it? If your parents would allow a private meeting, I would invite you for one today. Now.”
She shook her head, the blonde curls around her face bouncing in a way he usually found endearing. “They would never allow it, at least not yet.”
“It has been two years. How much longer must we wait?”
Her chest rose and fell as she sighed and placed her petite hand on his. How had he mistaken that maid’s stained hands for hers last night? He should have known immediately that Miss Morgan would never allow her hands to get dirty.
“In truth, Mr. Woodsworth, I have started to believe it may be time to try a different tactic.”
“You have?” The fact that she was worried enough about him to think of a tactic at all brought back some of the hopefulness that had filled his lungs just yesterday. For too long he had been the only one keeping their relationship strong. “What do you have in mind?”
“I’m not sure you will like it.”
“If it allows us to marry sooner than two years hence, I am quite certain I will like it.” He also had the land in Kent he was hoping to tell her about soon, but he wanted to make certain the deal was done before he told her. With land transactions, you never knew what could go wrong.
She squeezed his hand and released it, placing both of her hands in her lap. Her brown eyes were vibrant, much more vibrant than they usually were. He should have pushed her to come up with plans more often. The corners of her lips turned up mischievously. She had never looked more beautiful.