Page 62 of The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth
With those meaningful words, he continued their walk, leaving her blushing, and her thoughts in a whirl.
Several minutes passed while she took note of the strength of Elliot’s arm under hers, and the heat emanating from his body. She imagined them both naked, lying in her bed as he stroked her, and spoke gently in her ear.
For goodness sake, she needed to stop this. She thought of other things, pushing away the images flashing in her mind. After a few minutes, and feeling more in control of herself, she said, “You have not been on your feet this long in more than a week. Perhaps we should turn around and head back to the carriage.” Despite her words, Elliot looked just fine.
“I am well, actually, but I would prefer to return to the carriage. Since I mentioned the work that I have been neglecting since my injury, it now preys on my mind.”
They took a shorter route back to the coach and spent the time until they reached her house in companionable silence. As they made their way up the stairs, the front door opened, and Thomas appeared at the entrance.
“Ah, Thomas. Just the man I wanted to see. I would appreciate you accompanying me to my rooms to retrieve some papers I need to go over.” Elliot stepped back from the door and allowed Charlotte to pass through.
She removed her bonnet and turned so Thomas could help her with her pelisse. “You may use the library for your purposes once your documents arrive. After I gather my correspondence from the library, I will be in my sitting room, writing my own letters. I will see you at luncheon?”
“If I may beg your consent, I would prefer a tray so I may work uninterrupted.”
“Of course. I will see you at dinner, then.” She strode to the library and gathered up the letters she’d not done anything with earlier. Rather than eat alone in the dining room, she asked for a tray in her sitting room, as well. That was a foolish request, since she’d eaten alone at her dining room table for months after Gabriel died. But now with Elliot in residence, it seemed rather pathetic to sit at the table by herself. She’d eaten most of her meals the past week at his bedside, as she watched over him.
Charlotte was quitesatisfied with the amount of work she’d accomplished by dinner time. With everything that had happened the past few weeks, she’d let a great deal of her responsibilities go. She caught up with correspondence with friends she had in London, as well as the little village where she’d been raised.
She’d also answered letters from her man of business about her investments, and household accounts. Now she was ready to put that all aside and enjoy a nice, quiet dinner with Elliot. She carefully chose her evening dress—something special. Why, she had no idea. Perhaps because Elliot was back on his feet, and he had a plan to put an end to the horror of her last few weeks.
She entered the library where Elliot stood, holding a glass of brandy. He looked a bit fatigued, which was natural since until this morning, he had been bedridden for days.
“I poured you a sherry.” He placed his glass on the sideboard and picked up her sherry and walked it over to her. His hand brushed over hers as she took the glass from him. She jolted at his touch, and his eyes snapped to hers. He’d felt it, too.
“Thank you.” She chastised her breathless voice. Then took a seat on the silk white and green print settee. “Were you able to finish the work you and Thomas retrieved from your rooms?
Elliot sat alongside her, swirling the brown liquid in his glass. “Yes, for the most part. There are a few things I will have to research at the law library before I am comfortable with the advice I intend to give my client.”
“Do you not feel torn between your duties as an investigator and solicitor? The work seems diametrically opposite.”
“In a way, perhaps. It seems in the past year I have received much more work in my law practice than I have in the investigations area. And there are other times where I need both skills to complete the job.”
“Madam, dinner is ready.” Thomas stood at the doorway, looking very much the proper footman.
“Thank you.” Charlotte and Elliot proceeded to the dining room. He held her seat for her while Thomas poured the wine. She was still not used to all the finery this life offered her. She never would have guessed when she’d left home years ago for her first job in service that she would one day preside over such a lovely table, with a footman pouring wine.
She and Elliot kept up a companionable stream of conversation as they ate the duck, sturgeon, cabbages, potatoes, and pig jelly. After clearing the table, Thomas placed a plate of fruit and cheese in the center of the table, and Charlotte fixed tea for them both.
Elliot stirred his tea, the flame from the lamps around the room casting shadows here and there, washing everything in a golden glow. Charlotte was content—the first time in weeks—she felt safe with Elliot staying at her house. Part of her was uncomfortable with the notion she needed a man, but the logical part of her knew, until the matter of the packages was resolved, she needed the security of Elliot’s presence.
“You look quite relaxed this evening.” Elliot smiled at her as he placed his teacup in the saucer.
“I feel relaxed. I don’t really know why since nothing has happened to quell my anxiety. I’m just grateful your injury was not grievous. Although I hasten to add, I am sorry you were injured at all, but if you hadn’t turned when you had, the outcome would have been much more serious.” She shuddered, as though a wave of cool air had swept the room.
“Yes. I have oftentimes thanked whatever it was I had intended to say to you for saving my life.”
“And what was it?”
He grinned. “I don’t remember. You would think something so monumental would be forever etched in my brain.”
The teacups were empty, and the plate of fruit and cheese had been enjoyed. Charlotte stifled a yawn and stood. “I think I will indulge in one more bit of sherry and then retire. I am quite fatigued.”
Elliot stood and pulled out her chair. “I will join you.” He took her arm and they strolled to the library. Perhaps it was their earlier conversation, but a thought brought her up sharp.
What would it be like to have this permanently?She and Elliot sharing dinner, then a drink before bed?
It did not frighten her as much as it should have.
