She had meant to attend to those tomorrow.
Entering the day’s earnings in her ledger could also wait until tomorrow, she decided. How could she count her receipts now or concentrate on anything important while he stood in front of her, turning her brain to pudding? “I received a delivery just this afternoon, but I haven’t had a moment to open the box and inventory its contents.”
“Ah, then I won’t disturb you now. I can come back another day.”
“Not at all. I will open it now.” She hadn’t planned on it, but there was no need to put it off. She strained for any excuse to keep him beside her. In truth, she’d hoped to close up early in order to go through her wardrobe and decide what to wear for the Christmas supper, but there would be time enough to attend to that chore this evening.
She only had one elegant gown anyway, a green silk she’d purchased two years ago on a whim because it brought out the chestnut brown of her hair and the emerald green of her eyes. The gown was quite pretty, but she hadn’t any place to wear it until now, and it needed some alteration to bring it up to current fashion.
“You are nibbling your lip, Miss Billings. It is obvious I’ve come at a bad time.” He turned to leave, but she stayed him by placing a hand on his arm.
“Dr. Carmichael…” She quickly let go of him, surprised by the tingle in her fingers as they touched the wool of his coat sleeve, and went to her desk to uselessly shuffle the papers atop it in order to keep her hands busy. “You see, I’ve just been invited to dine at the manor house.”
He arched a dark eyebrow. “Ah, for Christmas supper next week?”
She nodded.
He grinned. “I’ve been invited as well.”
She nodded again. “I know. The vicar mentioned it to me as he ran by a few minutes ago.”
“Ran by? On his way to the vicarage?”
She smiled. “I think so.”
“Figures he was late to the Tyrell christening. I vow, that man will be late to his own funeral,” he said with a chuckle. “But it makes sense that we three should be invited to Christmas supper at Sherbourne Manor. They’ll want the vicar for the blessing. No doubt, they want to keep me close at hand when their guests begin to suffer from indigestion. Not that the food will be bad. Quite the opposite, their cook is the finest in the Cotswolds. We’re all bound to overeat.”
“Shamelessly stuff our faces.” She bobbed her head in hearty agreement. “Without doubt.”
He moved closer and casually leaned his hip against her desk. “I’m going to inhale the roast goose. I don’t know what she puts on it…or stuffs in it, but there is nothing finer in all of England.”
“You’d better be quick if you’re going to steal the drumstick,” she teased, “for I aim to grab it first.”
“Ah, then I wouldn’t dream of depriving you of the pleasure.”
There was something quite lovely about this man, in a rugged, masculine way. He knew just how to put everyone at ease and at the same time, he exuded an aura of power and authority. Anyone who crossed him would quickly regret it. But any friend of his would have his loyalty and support forever.
She hoped they were friends. In truth, she’d long hoped for more.
His gorgeous dark eyes were gleaming as he continued to jest. “But there are two legs. I think we must form an alliance to block the others from grabbing the spoils. Can’t let these Sassenachs get their hands on our goose. What do you say, Miss Billings?”
She shook her head and laughed. “Our goose? I think the Earl of Welles will have something to say about that. However, I expect there will be more than one goose set out, so there’ll be no need to brawl at the table.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, that’s no fun.”
“But more in the holiday spirit, I should think. I shall still be your ally, Dr. Carmichael. Even though I am one of those Sassenachs, I can always use a Scottish warrior on my side.” He stood quite close beside her now so that she felt the heat radiate off his body. Her heart began to flutter again. “You mentioned the reasons why you and the vicar were invited. Why do you think they invited me?”
His expression turned surprisingly tender. “Because you are someone quite special, Miss Billings. They see your worth and invite you for the best reason of all, because you are their friend.”
“Oh.” She wasn’t certain why hearing him say the reason aloud affected her so much. Yes, she adored Poppy, Penelope, and Olivia. She could not think of them as countess or duchess, for they never put on airs around her and did not want her using their titles when addressing them. She would when in public, of course. “I do like them very much. If ever I had sisters…which I don’t and never will, but if ever I had any, I’d wish for them to be just like those three. They are the loveliest, kindest…”
“Damn,” he mumbled, “are your eyes tearing?”
“No.” It was an obvious lie. Why had she suddenly lost her composure? This wasn’t like her at all. She didn’t want the doctor to think of her as just another silly woman who turned into a watering pot at the slightest provocation.
“If those are not tears, then it must be your roof leaking onto my coat.”
She found herself somehow drawn into his arms and weeping into his lapels. He wasn’t holding her in any romantic way, of course. He was merely being protective and comforting. “Perhaps a few tears fell,” she admitted. “Do forgive me, Dr. Carmichael. I don’t know why I’ve been like this lately.”
She tried to ease away but it was his turn to stay her hand. “Angus,” he said, gazing down at her with concern. Perhaps it was the Scottish in him. They were known for their adherence to a code of honor. He was merely fulfilling a duty to come to the aid of his ally. After all, they were plotting to grab the goose for themselves.
“What?”
“I want you to call me Angus. May I call you Felicity?” He pressed on before she had a chance to consider his request. “I knew another Miss Billings once. A crotchety old bat with a perpetual sneer on her jowly face. She was my governess when I was a lad. She detested me. Used to come after me with her cane whenever I mouthed back at her.”
“Which you did often?”
“Of course. It’s what we Scots do best.” He nodded. “Couldn’t help myself. She considered me lower than the dirt under her boots, and I wasn’t going to stand for it.”
Felicity’s eyes rounded in surprise. “That’s awful!”
He shrugged. “But all Scots were that to her. She was English and therefore of superior blood. She never let me forget it. I have no quarrel with the English, mind you. Only those like her. I’d quarrel with a Scot, too, if he spouted such drivel. I’d quarrel with any man who–”
“Dr. Carmichael, I had no idea you were so quarrelsome,” she teased, liking him all the more because he was the sort of man who would not hesitate to come to the defense of the weak and defenseless.
“Angus,” he insisted. “Call me Angus. It’s only right if I’m to call you Felicity.” He still held her in his arms, their bodies scandalously touching. She ought to have drawn away, but she rested her head against his broad, solid chest instead. She could not resist burrowing a little closer, needing to absorb his heat and strength. “Frankly, I’m surprised we’ve kept up the formality till now.”