The Wicked Heir (Spare Heirs #3)(86)

He squeezed her hand and met her gaze with the most intent look she’d ever seen there. “My situation is a bit different from usual bachelor residences. There are things you should know, Isabelle, things about my life. Secrets—”

The door opened, and a humming Mrs. Featherfitch almost walked into her.

“Lady Isabelle!” The housekeeper clutched her heart and took a step back, looking at them. “You gave me a start. I wasn’t expecting—”

“Isn’t it your day to be off?” Isabelle asked, wishing the woman hadn’t interrupted the most important conversation of Fallon’s and her lives.

Mrs. Featherfitch shot her a questioning glance, then looked at Fallon and back again. “I was only checking that the fire had been tended since daybreak. There’s a new maid, and she’s forgetful with such things. I’ll come back later.”

“Stay,” Fallon commanded. “We were just leaving.”

Mrs. Featherfitch nodded, and they moved around her and out into what appeared to be an alcove off the main hall. Isabelle’s heart still raced at both the possibilities opening in their discussion and then almost being knocked to the ground by the housekeeper. She studied the floor before her feet for a moment while she tried to regain her composure. Had he mentioned secrets she should know? And Mrs. Featherfitch hadn’t appeared to know that this was her day off from her work. The entire encounter had been odd.

“You work your staff too hard, you know,” she mused. “You work too hard as well.”

“I’ve always thought I didn’t have a choice in that regard.”

“And now?” she asked, finally looking up to meet his gaze.

“Nothing has been the same since you came into my life.”

“You still work overlong hours.”

He shrugged and gave her a wry smile. “I’m here now, strolling the halls of my home with you midmorning. I trusted someone to carry out some business concerns on my behalf. I never do that. Ask anyone.”

“You have a man of business?” Finally, she was learning a bit about the part of his life that was such a secret. She watched him, waiting for more clues that would complete her image of him.

He glanced to the main hall ahead for a second before replying. “In a way, yes.”

“If I could only convince you to employ a valet, you might appear to be a respectable gentleman,” she teased.

“Appearances can be deceiving,” he replied, but that was when they stepped into the main hall.

This was the main hall of Fallon’s home? There were cherubs painted on the ceiling, paintings framed in gold, a large chandelier heavy with candles, and a wide staircase. It was like something out of a fairy tale, and he used it as a bachelor residence?

She dropped his arm at the sight before her and rushed forward, staring up at the ceiling and twirling around to see the plump, little cherubs from all angles. “Oh, Fallon, this is lovely!”

“Those are Mortimer and Henry,” he supplied as he joined her. “They watch over the activity in the house, but they never tell tales, so you have nothing to fear.”

She laughed up at the merry depictions above. “They’re the perfect housemates for you, then, my secretive one.”

“I don’t want to have secrets from you anymore,” he said, pulling her attention from the ceiling.

She swallowed and turned to look at him. “Nor I you.” She wanted to tell him that she loved him. She was about to burst with the containment of such news, but would he push her away again if she told him? She always rushed in, never considered consequences—until now. She couldn’t risk losing him even for a day.

He glanced around, suddenly uncomfortable with their location. “This isn’t the place for the discussion of secrets though, is it?”

“Secrets aren’t things that flee into the night if not told. They’ll be here for us tomorrow.” And perhaps by then she would have found enough steel in her gut to tell him that she loved him.

“Tomorrow,” he confirmed, looking relieved.

“Today I would like to continue our tour. What is this room?” She moved toward the large double doors nearby.

“The drawing room. Or it was when the house belonged to Pearl.”

“You don’t use it as a drawing room?” she asked. Her hand was on the doorknob, but a second later his fingers covered hers.

“Perhaps that’s for tomorrow as well.”

She frowned up at him in confusion. Secrets—apparently he was steeped in them, but tomorrow she would learn them all. And then she would finally tell him she loved him. She released the doorknob and took a step away from the drawing room door—for now.

*

After they’d returned from walking around his home, Fallon had left her alone for the rest of the afternoon to attend a meeting of some sort. He’d promised to return soon. Yet it wasn’t soon enough.

Isabelle had reviewed the menu for the upcoming week, read a chapter in a book, examined the painting of a vase of roses that hung over the fireplace, sorted her own attempts at paintings, and now lay draped across his bed with her hair trailing nearly to the floor, waiting for him. Had it been an hour or days since he’d left her side? She wasn’t certain, but it seemed like days.

“Practicing your fair-maiden-trapped-in-a-tower bit again?” Fallon’s voice sounded from the door as he watched her. “I think soon you’ll be ready to take the stage.”