As the Devil Dares (Capturing the Carlisles #3)(82)
“There are a great many ways in which you bother me, Mariah Winslow,” he admitted, his voice husky and low. “Many tantalizing ways…and many more I hope to teach you tonight.”
She lost the battle with her blush, and it sped hotly across her face and down beneath her neckline.
“But you liking me,” he assured her quietly, “doesn’t bother me at all.”
Hope sparkled inside her. “I’m glad.” Very glad.
His eyes flared possessively, and from the way his body tensed, she knew he felt the same frustration of not being able to reach for her that she did. They hadn’t been alone all day, not since they left the offices last night, and not being able to hold him or kiss him was driving her mad. For one desperate moment, she considered the wanton thought of finding some excuse to accompany him upstairs where they could be alone, if only for a few minutes—
The bell over the door jangled as a rush of wintry air blew in from the street, seemingly carrying Whitby along with it. He’d pulled his beaver hat low over his ears in defense against the blustery day, which only served to make his already outsize ears appear even larger. The usual goofy grin lit his face.
“Whitby, you’re here!” Mariah came forward to greet him, although more to recover herself and slow her pounding heart than to welcome him. Robert had just admitted to holding affection for her, and while liking was a great long ways from loving, her heart still flipped joyous somersaults. The wait until tonight would be interminable. “I didn’t expect you to stop by.”
“I wanted to make certain you were feeling better.” He frowned at her with concern. “You left the ball so quickly that I didn’t get to say good-bye.”
She cast a quick glance at Robert. “I—I had a terrible headache and needed to go home.” Swift guilt pierced her at the pretense they’d been forced into. But if she had her way, they wouldn’t have to lie much longer. “I’m feeling much better today.”
Papa’s office door opened, and Mr. Ledford stepped out, as always with stacks of ledgers and ships’ manifests filling his arms. Distractedly, he nodded to them as he hurried past toward his own desk in the corner of the outer room.
“Carlisle,” her father called out from his office doorway, his serious gaze sliding awkwardly past her to Robert. “A word with you.”
Mariah stiffened. Her father wanted to talk to Robert? Surely, it was about business. Couldn’t be about last night. It was impossible that her father could have discovered what they’d done. Not when Robert had returned her home by the time the ball would have ended. Not when they’d given excuses to his mother and Evie that she’d fallen ill and had to leave early. Nothing had appeared amiss.
But if they were found out, oh God, it really would be the convent for her!
“Of course.” Robert solemnly met Mariah’s gaze, not a stray emotion revealed on his stoic face when she was certain that a wealth of guilt and panic gripped hers.
Without a lingering look to betray them, he followed her father into his office.
*
Robert closed the door. If this conversation with Henry Winslow was about what happened last night, then he wanted no witnesses to his murder.
He sucked in a deep breath. “You wanted to speak with me?”
Gesturing for him to sit, Winslow crossed to the cabinet in the corner and pulled out a bottle of bourbon. “This requires a drink.”
He stiffened. “Oh?”
“And it involves Mariah,” Winslow muttered.
Robert’s heart skipped. He wasn’t ready for this conversation.
After last night, he had every intention of winning both the partnership and Mariah. After he’d taken her home, he’d spent the hours until dawn walking the snow-covered streets of Mayfair and letting the icy air quell the heat of physical desire, until he could think clearly about what happened, what he wanted for his future, and what Mariah deserved for hers. By the time he’d watched the sun rise over Hyde Park, he knew exactly what he wanted. And would settle for nothing less.
But he also knew that he had to tread carefully on both fronts. Because as far as Henry Winslow was concerned, the two were mutually exclusive. The man who claimed his daughter could never assume a position in his business. Yet Robert hoped that Winslow was smart enough to recognize both his business acumen and his affections for Mariah and welcome him into both the family and the company with open arms.
Which was why he wanted to spend the evening with Mariah. More than time together to laugh and talk freely, more than a chance to make love to her again, tonight would be an opportunity to discuss their future.
But being confronted by her father was certainly not part of the plan.
“I only want the best for her,” Robert admitted quietly. If Winslow realized that, perhaps being force-marched to the altar—and out of Winslow Shipping—could be avoided.
“And she’s going to have it! More than her wildest dreams could ever have imagined.”
That was unexpected. He blinked. “Pardon?”
Winslow laughed as he splashed golden liquid into two glasses, the sound one of arrogant victory. “Ledford just gave me good news about the docks project.”
“The docks.” Relief sank through him. He would have to have a conversation about Mariah with her father eventually, but thankfully, not today. “What news?”