Page 16 of If a Lady Lingers

“Not Elias.You, Daisy.” He pointed irritably at the roll of pages in her hand. “Elias didn’t do those plans. He doesn’t know anything about the skylights or shower tubs. When I spoke to him yesterday, he didn’t even know that the square was plumbed for both water and gas. That means that Elias Daring isn’t my architect.” He folded his arms over his yellow and white striped waistcoat and leveled a no-nonsense gaze on her. “Youare. And you’ve been lying to me about it.”

She froze beneath his accusation. Her heart pounded brutally against her ribs as the shock twisted through her. He knew…

Wide-eyed beneath his hard gaze, she forced herself to breathe. That was why he was acting so out of sorts today, why he wasn’t teasing her and smiling the way he’d always done before, why he was so irritable. He was angry because he knew she and her father had been dishonest with him. Dear heavens…he knew!

Guilt gripped her at his accusation. She couldn’t find the words to deny it.

“Be honest with me.” He took the plans from her numb fingers with a grimace. “This is your work. All of it. From the very beginning.”

“Yes,” she breathed out, blinking away the stinging in her eyes.

“You’re the one who hired the builders, the one who’s overseeing all the excavation work, masonry, and framing?”

She nodded sharply. The knot of emotion in her throat clenched too tightly for her to speak.

“This whole time, you’ve pretended that it was your father who drafted those plans, while you let yourself be relegated to the interior designs.”

“Interior designs are important,” she argued in a feeble attempt to protect her pride. “They finish a house.”

“Finish a house? Daisy, you’re building anentirehouse! And all the while you’ve been hiding the truth from me, which is the worst of all. Because I trusted you.” He tucked the plans into a niche in the unfinished wall beside them, then removed his hat and raked his fingers through his ginger hair. “Why? Why would you dissemble with me about something this important?”

She knew he didn’t mean the house itself. “Because Papa’s sick and hasn’t been able to work,” she rushed out as the guilt swelled unbearably inside her. She wrung her hands. “The bills were piling up, the tuition couldn’t be paid, the doctors began to demand payment upfront or they wouldn’t examine Papa… Don’t you see? I had to do the projects, collect the commissions—” She choked off as a look of pity tightened his face, and an expression of worry that he’d now cancel the project surely darkened hers. Desperately, she assured him, “But there’s no need to cancel the project. You’ll have a wonderful house in the end, I promise you. Exactly what you wanted, what the boys need—I promise you!”

“Daisy.” He took her arms and leaned in to touch his lips to hers, the innocent kiss reassuring and calming. “I have no intention of canceling this project.”

She blinked rapidly. “You—you don’t?”

“Not at all. I know that it’s going to be a wonderful house. I have no doubts of that.” He rested his cheek against hers, and his warm breath tickled her ear when he asked softly, “But why did you lie to me? Me of all people… You didn’t have to.”

“Yes, I did.” She swallowed down the bitterness. “Because I’m a woman.”

He pulled back just far enough to gaze into her eyes with mock solemnity. “I’ve noticed.”

She couldn’t help a faint bubble of laughter despite the humiliated tears that threatened to fall. “Then you’ve also noticed that women can’t be architects.”

“Says who?”

She sniffed. “Everyone in the world.”

“Not true. Not me. I don’t mind having a woman for an architect.” He reached into his breast pocket to retrieve his handkerchief and held it out to her. “What I mind is when my friend keeps secrets from me.”

“I had no choice.” Her hand trembled as she took the handkerchief and dabbed it at her nose. “You wouldn’t have hired Papa and me if you’d known. Besides, who would pass up the chance to design a brand-new house filled with all kinds of modern amenities like gas lighting and wooden pipes?” She gestured a hand at the structure around her. “It’s my dream come true, and I didn’t want to risk being denied the chance.” Her vision blurred, and she swiped at her eyes. “But you’re right. As your friend, I should have told you the truth. I’m sorry.”

He nodded somberly, accepting both her answer and apology. “Are there any other secrets I should know about? Are you also a navy captain or army general, or the second secret wife of King George? Are you also a circus performer?” His somber expression melted into that beaming smile she’d come to know and appreciate. “Because that last one would be grand if you were. Think of it! A tightrope walker or juggler—”

“Whitby,” she admonished.

“An acrobat—wouldn’tthatbe thrilling? To watch you go tumbling across the—”

“Whitby!” She placed her hands over his mouth to silence him with a laugh that was half embarrassment, half astonishment. Then her shame faded into a soft smile for him, and she dropped her hands away, to rest them lightly on his shoulders. “I promise to be the best architect possible for this house and to check with Papa on all questions and concerns. I’ll keep the builders on schedule and below budget, and I’ll make certain that the materials haven’t been skimped upon, as so many townhouses built on short leaseholds are.”

“Ninety-nine,” he admitted.

“Pardon?”

“My leasehold. I secured a ninety-nine-year lease.” He looked around at the half-built house as if seeing it for the first time. “This is going to be my home for the rest of my life.”

The pressure of providing the perfect home settled like the weight of the world onto her shoulders.Ninety-nine years…“And your children’s,” she told him, pondering the length of the lease. “And your children’s children’s.” She frowned. “And perhapstheirchildren’s.”