How to Woo a Wallflower (Romancing the Rules #3)(52)

As he made the short walk to Ruthven’s, his mind wandered. He’d told Clarissa nothing had changed, yet he felt the lie in his very bones. The moment he saw her again, he’d want to kiss her. He couldn’t imagine a day going by now when that desire, and others, would not be paramount.

Wrestling with what lay ahead, he could think of only one option. The question was whether he had the brass to do it. Consequences be damned.

He frowned as he started down Southampton Row toward Ruthven’s. The sky had filled with dark clouds, and the air was dense with moisture. Along the row, gaslight beyond office windows cast a buttery glow onto the pavement. But not Ruthven’s. Its windows were dark. Had they shut up shop because he hadn’t come to work?

Quickening his pace, he reached the door and found the latch unlocked. Stepping inside, he took in the empty workroom. Clerks’ desks were irritatingly untidy, as if they’d all stepped away in the middle of their duties and abandoned the office in a rush. A ripple of fear shook him. Had some mischief chased them all away?

Ahead, his office door stood ajar. Through the opening he could see a candle glimmering at the edge of his desk. In the flickering light stood the most enticing woman he’d ever met. Candle glow lit up the rich burnished gold of Clary’s hair. She heard his footsteps and turned, blew out the candle, and burst through the door.

“It’s you,” she said, offering him a smile that chased the day’s worries from his mind. “I can explain.” She lifted a hand, and he longed to catch it in his and feel the soft warmth of her skin.

He glanced at the suspended gaslights dotting the workroom. “You wished to save on the cost of gas?”

“You’d probably commend me for that, wouldn’t you?” Another smile. Another shot of warmth through his chest. “Actually, there’s some trouble with our gas line. We’re not the only business affected on the row. The solicitor behind us and a tobacconist next to him are without lights too. The clerks waited an hour in the darkness, and I finally told them to go home for the day.” Clasping her hands in front of her, she bit her lip before asking. “That’s what you would’ve done, isn’t it?”

“Indeed.” By rights, she could have told the men to take the rest of the week off if she’d liked. “But why did you stay?”

“To wait for you.” She licked her lips, and Gabe swallowed hard, remembering the heat of her mouth against his. “Perhaps I should have wired to let you know there was no reason to come today.”

“You could have.” He took a step closer and caught her fragrance, floral and delicate but far sweeter than her spring bouquet because of her own unique scent underneath. She shifted on her feet, as if she might dart toward him or sidestep away. “But if I’d known you were here, I would have come anyway.”

“I wished to see you too.”

As it always did, the sight of her, her scent, the sound of her voice, lit him up inside. Warming every cold, dark corner of his soul. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to say all he needed to while they were in the office, where he was ever reminded that she was a Ruthven, and he was no more than her family’s employee.

“Would you come with me?”

She took his hand immediately and stepped forward, threading her fingers with his.

“Into a darkened alley for more lessons in fighting?” she asked with a saucy grin.

“We’ll save that for another time.” He let go a smile, and the freedom of doing so was a strange kind of bliss.

She stared at his mouth in dumbstruck fascination. “You definitely need to do that more often.”

Gabe waited while she retrieved her coat and bag from his office, resisting the urge to adopt her habit of fidgeting. His body fizzed with frantic vigor, not unlike what he’d felt before entering a fight. Though this was worse. He’d readied himself for every round of fisticuffs, but he never felt prepared for his encounters with Clary. She surprised him every time.

He was a novice with her. He’d never conducted a proper courtship in his life.

Steady, man. He wasn’t courting her. Not yet. Would he ever deserve that privilege?

First, he had to tell her the truth. No, that wasn’t right. First, he had to find the courage to confess it.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Do I get a hint about where you’re taking me?” Clary had to pick up the edge of her skirt to keep up with Gabriel’s long stride. They’d been walking for what seemed like an hour, and he clearly knew where he wished to take her. Yet his pace was so quick, he was in danger of leaving her behind. She reached for his arm. “Are we in a terrible hurry?”

He stopped in front of her and glanced up at the storm clouds overhead.

“I don’t mind a bit of rain.” Clary didn’t care if they were caught in a downpour. She sensed Gabriel wished to tell her something important. The frown pinching his brow hadn’t eased since they’d left the office.

“I thought we’d head to Regent’s Park.” He tucked her hand against his arm. “Just a bit farther.”

“Are we going to the zoo?”

“Not today.” He grinned down at her, and the lines of his brow smoothed.

She liked the sound of not today. There was promise in it. An implication that there would be more days together. More hours spent traipsing through London at each other’s side. When she tightened her hold on his arm, his grin deepened, as if mirth was easy for him now. As if he was an entirely different man than the stoic office manager of Ruthven’s.