The Earl's Secret. Terri Brisbin
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one Mr. A. J. Goodfellow.
And while he learned more of the lovely Miss Fairchild.
Uncertain of where that thought had originated, David shook his head. The woman Nathaniel chose to pursue as his wife was of no concern to him.
The image of her sable-brown eyes flashing indignantly at his manners, which had been curt and just short of rude, filled his thoughts. He’d been too focused on his business and his study of Nathaniel to truly take notice of the woman who had occupied Nate’s office as though it were her own. He remembered the way her full lips pursed and thinned and how her eyebrows narrowed as he refused to disclose his reasons for the visit.
Miss Fairchild was no wilting flower. And, although he could not afford to be distracted from his purpose, David knew that he would enjoy this excursion to Edinburgh a bit more for her presence there.
Chapter Five
Anna should not have been surprised by the change in weather. The winds blew in from the north and rattled through the streets, making her hope that her bonnet’s ribbons would hold tight. Although August usually meant warmer temperatures, each day could bring a variety of conditions. Today, thick clouds rolled over the city, promising showers that would make her travel both more difficult and longer than she wished.
It was as she turned the corner and headed for the office that she spied Mr. Archer standing across the street, on the corner of the North Bridge. Meticulously groomed in spite of the wind, he almost seemed to be waiting for her as she made her way from the Old Town. Why would he be waiting for her? More importantly, should she pass him by or acknowledge him?
Anna stopped for a moment and adjusted her bonnet, thinking over how best to handle this. For the last two days Nathaniel had deflected any questions about Mr. Archer in an offhand manner that would have demonstrated his disinterest to anyone asking. But Anna knew him better and realized at once that he was trying to minimize her curiosity about this Englishman and his business at the Gazette. Any question of ignoring the man under consideration ended when he appeared directly before her.
“Miss Fairchild,” he said. His deep voice held no hint of the near-unpleasantness of their first meeting.
“Mr. Archer.”
“I had no idea that the winds could be so strong here.” He tugged his top hat down and tilted his head as he smiled. That smile created the most attractive dimple in his chin. And it lightened the serious expression in his eyes.
“Is this your first trip to Edinburgh then?” She watched as his eyes narrowed and then he shook his head.
“No, not my first. But my first in a very long time.” He turned then and looked down Princes Street in the very same direction in which she needed to go. “Are you going to the Gazette’s office?”
It was foolish to feel as though she need conceal her movements from him. Anna nodded, “I am. And you?”
“The very same place. May I offer you my escort there? From the strength of these gales, you may need some assistance in staying out of the street itself.”
The buffeting winds were something unexpected by the city’s planners when they designed the layout of the streets between the old ‘Nor’loch’ and the Firth of Forth. Anna was about to deny any need for escort or assistance when a rather strong gust whipped by her and wrenched her bonnet from her head. Saved at the last moment by Mr. Archer’s quick action, she accepted her hat from him and then she placed her arm on his when he offered, without argument.
“Perhaps you could familiarize me with the New Town as we walk?” he asked as they began to walk south on Princes Street. “So much of it is changed since I last visited.”
Anna pointed out shops she frequented as they ambled along, as well as the houses belonging to several well-known peers, scholars and writers. From what she’d heard and read, Edinburgh’s Old Town was completely different from London. Instead of separate areas for the various classes of society, Auld Reekie tended to have them in layers in the same buildings and blocks—the richer and more prestigious one was, the closer to street level and the more spacious one’s accommodations were. New Town was more similar to London, with the rich in specific squares and streets and those who served or did business with them in others.
Mr. Archer listened attentively and asked questions as they covered the distance from the bridge to the office. Surprised by his polite demeanor, she found herself deeply engrossed in their conversation as the blocks raced by and even the nasty weather faded away. When they would cross a street, he would block the worst of the wind by placing himself in the way of it.
Although she was certain that only moments had passed, Anna drew to a halt in front of the door of the Gazette’s office. Startled by their arrival in so short a time, she searched for the words to end their excursion. Before she could, the door opened from inside and Nathaniel stood glaring at both of them.
Glaring in a most possessive fashion.
Her cheeks grew warm at such a gaze and she blinked a few times trying to regain her composure. Nathaniel was a different man in these last few days, in both his manner and his attention to her. Why, last night at dinner with Clarinda and her husband on their first night in Edinburgh, he had complimented her appearance and invited her to the theater! Behavior like this reminded her of how a gentleman courted a lady.
Lud! What had rekindled Nathaniel’s interest in such a hopeless thing? Before she could speak, Mr. Archer spoke up.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Hobbs-Smith. I found Miss Fairchild being pushed about by the winds on the North Bridge and have delivered her safely to your door.” Holding out her hand to Nathaniel, Mr. Archer bowed and stepped back.
“Anna…Miss Fairchild, come in,” Nathaniel said, backing up a pace from the door so that she could enter. That measure of welcome disappeared as soon as she was behind him, for he stepped forward, quite clearly blocking Mr. Archer’s entrance. “If that is all, Mr. Archer?”
“Actually, I have a request of you.” Mr. Archer moved forward, forcing Nathaniel to back up a bit from his stance. “The rooms I have let are much too small in which to entertain, but I would very much like to continue our discussion from a few days ago.”
Nathaniel appeared to wilt at the words, but then he rallied and stood straighter. Although none of the words were directed at her, she nonetheless felt the scrutiny of both men as they lobbed comments back and forth like a battledore and shuttlecock match.
“Might you suggest a dining establishment or perhaps a club where we can have supper?”
A simple request, really, but apparently it raised Nathaniel’s hackles. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his hands fisting and relaxing, fisting and relaxing. She fought the urge to slide hers into his in front of Mr. Archer. Before Nathaniel could answer, he added, “Not to be rude, of course, Miss Fairchild, but this is about business matters between Mr. Hobbs-Smith and myself.”
Not to be rude? He was insufferable and rude and he knew it. In what she would consider a challenge, he made certain she knew she was excluded from the proffered invitation. How had his manners changed so in just those moments? He’d been attentive and polite during their walk. What was between him and Nathaniel that brought on this behavior? Maybe Clarinda would know?
“I would never presume to interfere in your business, sir,” she answered, not unhappy that a sharp tone entered her voice then. “If you would excuse me?”
Anna turned then and walked away from them. She held herself to a certain standard of behavior since her carefree, even hoydenish days before her father’s death, and at this moment she felt the very unladylike urge to stamp her feet and screech. Better to retreat and not embarrass herself and Nathaniel. She would discover the truth of the matter from Nathaniel and, if he prevaricated, from Clarinda.
Only a few minutes passed before Nathaniel joined her in his office and Anna attempted to ignore both him and the question burning within her. As though he could sense her disquiet, Nathaniel