A Wallflower Christmas (Wallflowers #5)(35)

“I wish you would join the sleighing party,” Natalie persisted. “Not only would you have fun, but you could do me the favor of keeping company with Lord Travers and diverting him. It seems that every time I’m with Mr. Bowman, Travers tries to barge in. It’s dreadfully annoying.”

“I thought you liked Lord Travers.”

“I do. But he is so reticent, it drives me mad.”

“Perhaps if you corner him, as you did Mr. Bowman”

“I’ve already tried that. But Travers won’t do anything. He said he respects me.” Scowling, Natalie had gone to join her parents and Mr. Bowman for the sleigh ride.

Once the sleighs had departed, the horses’ hooves tamping down the snow and ice, bells jingling on bridles, the manor and grounds were peaceful. Hannah walked slowly through the manor, enjoying the serenity of the empty hallways. The only sounds were the distant muffled conversations of servants. No doubt they, too, were glad that the mass of guests were gone for the rest of the day and evening.

Hannah reached the library, which was empty and inviting, the air lightly pungent with the scents of vellum and leather. The fire in the hearth cast a warm glow through the room.

Seating herself in the chair by the fire, Hannah removed her shoes and drew one foot up beneath her. She took the letter from Samuel Clark from her pocket, broke the seal, and smiled at his familiar penmanship.

It was easy to picture Clark writing this letter, his face still and thoughtful, his fair hair a bit mussed as he leaned over his desk. He asked after her health and that of the Blandfords, and wished her a happy holiday. He proceeded to describe his latest interest in the subject of inherited characteristics as described by the French biologist Lamarck, and how it meshed with Clark’s own theories of how repeated sensory information might be stored in the brain tissue itself, thereby contributing to the future adaptation of species. As usual, Hannah only understood about half of it…he would have to explain it later in a way that she could comprehend more easily.

“As you see,” he wrote, “I require your good, sensible companionship. If only you were here to listen to my thoughts as I explain them, I could arrange them more precisely. It is only at times like this, in your absence, that I realize nothing is complete when you are gone, my dear Miss Appleton. Everything seems awry.

It is my fondest hope that when you return, we will sort out our more personal issues. During the course of our work you have come to know my character, and my temperament. Perhaps by now my meager charms have made some sort of impression on you. I have few charms, I know. But you have so many, my dear, that I think yours will atone for my lack. I hope very much that you might do me the honor of becoming my partner, helpmate, and wife ….

There was more, but Hannah folded the letter and stared blindly into the fire.

The answer would be yes, of course.

This is what you’ve wanted, she told herself. An honorable offer from a fine, decent man. Life would be interesting and fulfilling. It would better her to be the wife of such a brilliant man, to become acquainted with the people in his educated circles.

Why, then, did she feel so miserable?

“Why are you frowning?”

Hannah started in surprise as she heard a voice from the library threshold. Her eyes widened as she beheld Rafe Bowman standing there with his habitually negligent posture, one leg slightly bent as he leaned against the doorframe. He was in a perturbing state of undress, his vest unbuttoned, his collarless shirt open at the throat, no cravat anywhere in sight. Somehow the disarray only made him more handsome, emphasizing the relaxed masculine vitality that she found so disturbing.

“I…I…Why are you walking around half dressed?” Hannah managed to ask.

One of his shoulders lifted in a lazy shrug. “No one here.”

“I’m here.”

“Why aren’t you at the sleighing party?”

“I wanted a bit of peace and privacy. Why aren’t you at the sleighing party? Natalie will be disappointedshe was expecting”

“Yes, I know,” Bowman said without a trace of remorse. “But I’m tired of being watched like a bug under a magnifying glass. And more importantly, I had some business matters to discuss with my brother-in-law, who also stayed behind.”

“Mr. Swift?”

“Yes. We went over contracts with a British heavy chemical company for sulphuric acid and soda supplies. Then we moved on to the fascinating topic of palm oil production.” He came into the room, his hands tucked casually in his pockets. “We agreed that we’ll eventually need to cultivate our own source by establishing a coco palm plantation.” His brows lifted. “Care to go to the Congo with me?”

She stared directly into his sparkling eyes. “I wouldn’t go with you to the end of the carriage lane, Mr. Bowman.”

He laughed softly, his gaze sweeping over her as she stood to face him. “You didn’t answer my earlier question. Why were you frowning?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Hannah fumbled nervously in the pocket of her skirts. “Mr. Bowman, I’ve been meaning to return this to you.” Pulling out the little toy soldier, she extended her hand. “You must take him back. I think”she hesitated”you’ve been through many a battle together, you and he.” She couldn’t help glancing at his throat, where the skin looked smooth and golden. A bit lower, there was a shadow of hair where the open neck of his shirt parted. An unfamiliar, hot flourish of sensation went through her stomach. Dragging her gaze upward, she looked into eyes as rich and dark as exotic spices.