Part 4 (1/2)
”I never thought about it because n.o.body ever asked me what I wanted.” He ran both hands through his hair. Although he was only two years older, gray streaks were slowly overtaking his dark hair. ”And until a few weeks ago, I never questioned what I wanted, either. But now...”
Emma's heart sank at the quiet determination in his voice. This wasn't going to be quite as easy as she'd hoped. But that didn't mean she had to give up entirely. ”You know what Miss Penrose is like, George. You've known her as long as we have. She's a terrible gossip. Everyone knows that. Remember the stories she spread about Miss Martin? She almost ruined that poor girl.”
”No-” George shook his head ”-she isn't. She isn't at all. And there was nothing about Miss Martin that wasn't true.”
”Wasn't true, my foot. She took a simple little kiss and twisted it into something sordid.”
”That's neither here nor there. You don't know her. You know what you choose to believe about her, and there's a vast difference.”
This was not going at all the way she thought it would. She glanced around at the small office as she struggled to think of what move to make next. Everyone knew Darcy loved a juicy tidbit, and the juicier the better. And she wasn't above making it even more succulent.
Emma s.h.i.+fted. The corner dug into the back of her thigh, and the crackling fire made the small room feel overheated. ”Rose loves you, George. And I've never seen her as upset as she was when she learned what happened-”
”Because you told her!” His nostrils flared again. ”It was none of your concern, Miss McKenzie. Just as what happens between Miss Adams and me is none of your concern. And whether or not I ask for her hand is none of your concern. In fact, this might come as a surprise to you, but none of this is your concern.” He shook his head, his jaw tightening. ”I know your brothers tolerate your pus.h.i.+ness, your need to know everything and control it as you think it should be controlled, but I will not stand for it. My decision is that, mine. Is that understood? Now, if you don't mind, I'm expecting several patients in the next hour.”
If the floor opened up beneath her and swallowed her whole, she'd be grateful. He was right. Overstepping didn't even come close to describing what she'd done. He didn't answer to her.
But his being right, which made her wrong, only intensified her need to fix everything between him and Rose. G.o.d, why did everything she tried to do only make matters worse? And how did she make them better?
And why didn't the floor just open up and swallow her before she made matters even worse still?
But that didn't happen. ”Rose is my dearest friend in the world,” she told him, her voice quavering, ”and I won't apologize for telling her something she should know. Nor will I apologize for wanting to do whatever I can to ease her upset. She didn't sleep at all last evening, George. That's how upset she was. When I left Stonebridge, she was finally napping in the parlor.”
He shrugged. ”You pushed your nose in where it didn't belong. The blame is entirely on you.”
She kicked him as hard as she could.
The moment her foot made contact with his s.h.i.+n, she regretted it. Pain exploded through her toes.
George swore swiftly, grabbing his leg with both hands and jumping away from her. ”What the-are you insane? What was that for?”
”Because you are an idiot, George. A blithering fool of an idiot.” If she could do so, she'd have rubbed her foot, it ached so badly. It felt as if she broke at least two toes, and it did nothing to ease her temper. ”Rose is too good for you.”
She didn't wait for him to reply, but turned and stomped her way out of the office, letting the door slam with more than a little satisfaction. Icy raindrops stung her face, cooling it as she looked about for the carriage. Where the devil was Joseph?
But wait, hadn't Julian said she should meet him at the Harrington Building? It wasn't far from Eagleton's warehouse on the waterfront. The Harrington Building housed Chelten s.h.i.+ps' home office.
The warehouses were the eastern part of town, along Lighthouse Lane between Peach and Maple Roads. As soon as there was a big enough break in the carriages rocking along the street, she turned her head away from the freezing rain and darted across.
The stairs leading to the offices on the second floor were slick with frozen rain. She slipped twice trying to hurry up to the top. Finally, she made it, and the door swung open at her light touch. ”Mr. McCallister?”
”Over here.” His voice came from the desk in the far corner, nearest the windows overlooking the water.
She limped her way around the clutter of desks belonging to whomever Julian shared his s.p.a.ce with. The lighting wasn't good and her eyes took their time adjusting. ”Where?”
His hand rose up between two high sheaves of paper and waved from the far corner.
When she wove her way over to him, she plunked down in the chair at the desk next to his. ”I should have let you come with me.”
”Ol' Georgie needed a choking?” Julian looked up from the paper he'd been poring over.
A hint of graphite smudged his cheek, leaving Emma with the wildest urge to drag her thumb over it.
His eyes narrowed. ”Were you limping?”
She winced as pain flared through her foot again. Perhaps she had broken something. ”Yes, and don't ask. In that order.” She leaned forward, half-rising from her chair to peer at the drawing on the desk in front of him. ”What is this?”
”Preliminary drawings for a clipper I've been commissioned to build. It's why I need to go to Boston.”
She peered down at the drawing. Although she didn't see many, even to her untrained eye, this s.h.i.+p wasn't like any other plan she'd ever seen. ”Is this your own design?”
His brows rose half an inch. ”This is what I do, remember?”
”True.” She let the paper slip from her fingers as a feeling of total idiocy swept over her. ”It's just that I've never seen what you do. I didn't realize you created them from nothing. I thought they were all basically the same.”
”And now you know they aren't all the same.” His chair squeaked as he sat back. His hands clasped, resting against his stomach. ”How did your talk with George go?”
Wouldn't it be lovely, if she could just lie and say everything went just fine, and hope that he forgot she was trying to fix this mess?
She shook her head. ”Not as well as I hoped.”
Setting down the pencil, Julian said, ”He didn't cave, did he?”
”No. Just the opposite. He's not sure if he even loves Rose.” She winced. ”I think I might have made matters worse.”
”Is that why you're limping?”
”No. I don't want to talk about that.” As Julian started to smile, she scowled. ”And it isn't funny. Not in the least.”
”Let me guess.” The pencil tapped the desk again. ”Ol' Georgie said something you didn't like, and you kicked him in the s.h.i.+n.”
”You know me too well, Mr. McCallister.” Despite her warm cheeks, she smiled back. ”He told me to mind my own business. Maybe I should have, but I kicked him anyway.”
After his long look, she nodded. ”I know, I know. I shouldn't have done it, but I was just so angry. With him. With myself. I just want to make everything right between them again. No matter what I try, things just get worse instead of better. I'm at my wit's end.”
”Sometimes the best thing you can do is just to step back and do nothing. Your heart was in the right place. I know you don't want to hear it, but I think you ought to consider leaving everything be and leaving them to work it out for themselves.”
”If only my brain would join it.”
”Don't we all wish that.”
As she glared at him, he quickly added, ”I meant for ourselves, not for you.”
Shadows stretched through the office, making it even gloomier despite the candles' glow. It was a small office, crammed with furniture and practically covered with tubes that most likely held more drawings. She sat back in her chair, staring up at the window high on the wall. The sky was a darker shade of gray and rain pattered against the panes, beading it with droplets that slowly slid into rivulets down the gla.s.s. ”The rain's coming down even harder now.”
”Wonderful.” Julian turned to look out the window. ”This weather is wreaking havoc on my schedule. I need to get these drawings up to Boston by the first, or this could fall through.” He riffled through the sheaf of drawings and plans.