many, she supposed. Mourning and the absence ofa decent chaperon made attending any social functions out of the question.
‘He has a card, Miss Sutton, and he says he has business to discuss.’
Not Charles, then. That had been her first thought. But Charles would never have called on her so late at night, knowing her brother was gone, or have come to discuss something as dirty as business. Unless, of course, he wanted to remind her of the impropriety of a lady living alone. Elise took the card from the silver salver. The paper was a heavy white affair of cardstock with simple black letters in crisp block print. It was of good quality. The name on the card wasn’t. Lord Dorian Rowland. Just seeing the name was enough to make her stomach flutter for any number of reasons: a reminder that she’d hired a man who outranked her socially to
work
for her, a reminder that same man kissed liked the very devil whenever the fancy struck him and reduced her insides to jelly.
‘Did he say what he wanted specifically?’ Elise fought the urge to check her appearance in the little mirror on the wall. She’d obeyed his order not to go to the shipyard today and apparently he’d obeyed hers. Evans didn’tlook too offended. She could assume Dorian had come with his shirt on.
‘No, miss, just business.’
‘Then I suppose I shall have to see him.’ Elise tried to sound cool. She rose and paced a few steps, trying to gather her thoughts, but to no avail. They continued to run amok. Why had he come? Was something wrong at the shipyard? Had there been an accident? Had something happened to the boat? Surely if something was seriously wrong he wouldn’t have come in person and waited patiently in the hall. He would have stayed to oversee the situation and sent a note, or he’d have come barging up the steps, shouting for her. Elise smoothed her skirts in an effort to quiet her nerves.
Footsteps sounded in the corridor. Evans announced the guest. Dorian stepped into the room. Her hands stilled in the folds of her skirts at the sight of him. Dorian had put on far more than a shirt to make this call. Dark breeches were tucked into high black boots; a claret-coloured coat was tailored to show off broad shoulders and the gold-patterned waistcoat and pristine linen beneath. She could almostbelieve the man standing before her was a lord. Almost.
There were other tells that gave him away. His thick sun-gold hair might be neatly pulled back and tied, but it was still too long for convention. His blue eyes were still too bold when they met hers. A gentleman would never look at a lady in a way that made her mouth go dry.
‘Lord Rowland, to what do I owe the pleasure?’
‘Dorian, please,’ he insisted. ‘I’ve come as I promised to give you an update and because I have questions about the plans.’ He held up the long roll of paper in his hand. ‘I hope my visit isn’t inconvenient? You don’t have plans this evening?’
‘You know I don’t.’
‘London’s loss, I think.’ Dorian smiled and their eyes held in the moment. She felt her face heat. She really shouldn’t let him get to her like this. Nothing could come of it and this was absolutely the wrong time to become involved with someone when so much else depended on her attentions.
‘Where shall we unroll these?’ Dorian looked around the room and gave the plans alittle wave, calling her attentions back to the intent of his visit.
‘Oh, yes, the plans. There’s no place to lay them out in here. Why don’t we try the library?’ At the last moment she remembered Evans still standing by the door. ‘Evans, have a tea tray sent up, please.’ She hoped she didn’t appear as flustered as she felt. It occurred to her as they headed towards the library that she’d never entertained anyone alone and certainly not a man. Her mother or father had always been with her. The servants were here, of course, but it wasn’t the same.
In the library, they busied themselves
‘He has a card, Miss Sutton, and he says he has business to discuss.’
Not Charles, then. That had been her first thought. But Charles would never have called on her so late at night, knowing her brother was gone, or have come to discuss something as dirty as business. Unless, of course, he wanted to remind her of the impropriety of a lady living alone. Elise took the card from the silver salver. The paper was a heavy white affair of cardstock with simple black letters in crisp block print. It was of good quality. The name on the card wasn’t. Lord Dorian Rowland. Just seeing the name was enough to make her stomach flutter for any number of reasons: a reminder that she’d hired a man who outranked her socially to
work
for her, a reminder that same man kissed liked the very devil whenever the fancy struck him and reduced her insides to jelly.
‘Did he say what he wanted specifically?’ Elise fought the urge to check her appearance in the little mirror on the wall. She’d obeyed his order not to go to the shipyard today and apparently he’d obeyed hers. Evans didn’tlook too offended. She could assume Dorian had come with his shirt on.
‘No, miss, just business.’
‘Then I suppose I shall have to see him.’ Elise tried to sound cool. She rose and paced a few steps, trying to gather her thoughts, but to no avail. They continued to run amok. Why had he come? Was something wrong at the shipyard? Had there been an accident? Had something happened to the boat? Surely if something was seriously wrong he wouldn’t have come in person and waited patiently in the hall. He would have stayed to oversee the situation and sent a note, or he’d have come barging up the steps, shouting for her. Elise smoothed her skirts in an effort to quiet her nerves.
Footsteps sounded in the corridor. Evans announced the guest. Dorian stepped into the room. Her hands stilled in the folds of her skirts at the sight of him. Dorian had put on far more than a shirt to make this call. Dark breeches were tucked into high black boots; a claret-coloured coat was tailored to show off broad shoulders and the gold-patterned waistcoat and pristine linen beneath. She could almostbelieve the man standing before her was a lord. Almost.
There were other tells that gave him away. His thick sun-gold hair might be neatly pulled back and tied, but it was still too long for convention. His blue eyes were still too bold when they met hers. A gentleman would never look at a lady in a way that made her mouth go dry.
‘Lord Rowland, to what do I owe the pleasure?’
‘Dorian, please,’ he insisted. ‘I’ve come as I promised to give you an update and because I have questions about the plans.’ He held up the long roll of paper in his hand. ‘I hope my visit isn’t inconvenient? You don’t have plans this evening?’
‘You know I don’t.’
‘London’s loss, I think.’ Dorian smiled and their eyes held in the moment. She felt her face heat. She really shouldn’t let him get to her like this. Nothing could come of it and this was absolutely the wrong time to become involved with someone when so much else depended on her attentions.
‘Where shall we unroll these?’ Dorian looked around the room and gave the plans alittle wave, calling her attentions back to the intent of his visit.
‘Oh, yes, the plans. There’s no place to lay them out in here. Why don’t we try the library?’ At the last moment she remembered Evans still standing by the door. ‘Evans, have a tea tray sent up, please.’ She hoped she didn’t appear as flustered as she felt. It occurred to her as they headed towards the library that she’d never entertained anyone alone and certainly not a man. Her mother or father had always been with her. The servants were here, of course, but it wasn’t the same.
In the library, they busied themselves
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