Written In The Heart. Judith Stacy

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      Chapter Three

      She found Richard Paxton pacing the office when she returned to the house, with Stephen maintaining a discreet distance behind her.

      “Miss Sommerfield, I’m terribly sorry about what happened,” Richard said, coming forward.

      He was a pleasant-looking man, nearly as tall as Stephen and close to the same age. He had dark hair, and blue eyes that at the moment reflected the sincerity in his words.

      “I’m to blame,” Richard said. “I didn’t make clear to Stephen exactly what my gift was.”

      “Gift?” Caroline looked back and forth between the two men.

      “Yes,” Richard said. “Today is Stephen’s birthday.”

      “Your birthday?” She turned to him.

      “Yes, and so far it’s been a hell of a disappointment,” Stephen grumbled. “Miss Sommerfield is going home. I instructed Charles to have the carriage brought around for her.”

      Caroline stood across the room from the two men as an awkward silence enveloped them all. She willed herself not to look at Stephen, but her gaze darted his way just the same. He watched her. Studied her, actually, like a cat waiting at a mouse hole.

      “Can I offer you some refreshment?” Richard asked.

      “No, thank you,” Caroline replied.

      Another silence stretched in the office. Stephen began pacing behind his desk. She tried to ignore him. In fact, she wanted desperately to ignore him, but he kept looking at her, making her uncomfortable.

      After a few moments he stopped.

      “You may as well go ahead and show me what this graphology is all about, Miss Sommerfield,” Stephen said. “You’re already here and have to wait for the carriage, anyway.”

      It was a reasonable suggestion and, in a way, she was almost relieved to have something to focus on, rather than endure Stephen’s stares.

      “Well, all right,” Caroline said. “I guess I may as well.”

      Richard picked up her satchel, which Stephen had left by the door. “Where would you like to work, Miss Sommerfield? The desk?”

      Caroline’s gaze collided with Stephen’s.

      “No!” they said in unison.

      Stephen groaned softly and sank into a wing chair in the corner.

      “How about this table?” Richard suggested.

      He led her to a round table with four chairs in the corner opposite Stephen. Caroline assembled her tools—several magnifying glasses, straightedges, papers and pencils—while Richard fetched several handwriting samples from a cabinet.

      “You can use these, Miss Sommerfield.” He presented them to her and smiled. “Can I get you anything else?”

      She glanced past him to Stephen fidgeting in the chair. He crossed one leg, then the other, then the first again.

      “No, thank you, Mr. Paxton,” she said.

      “Is there any way I can make you more comfortable?” Richard asked.

      The question brought Stephen’s gaze around to Caroline, his face drawn in tight lines. Only a few minutes ago he had offered to make her more comfortable by undressing her.

      Caroline refused to let herself blush, and deliberately turned back to the papers spread out in front of her.

      “I’m fine,” she lied.

      “All right, then.” Richard smiled. “Just take your time. There’s no rush.”

      It was more than a little unnerving being in Stephen’s office again. Caroline wasn’t sure she could concentrate. A strange sensation vibrated through her, stirring her senses to a sharper awareness, making everything seem more intense.

      She glanced across the room once more and found Stephen staring at her again. He looked away sharply. Caroline drew in a calming breath. She got out her magnifying glass and went to work.

      Faint strains of music drifted from upstairs and a clock ticked somewhere in the house, then chimed the hour. Caroline lost herself in her work, as she usually did.

      She wasn’t so absorbed, though, that she didn’t notice Stephen every time he moved. He seemed agitated. He squirmed in his chair, then paced, then sat again. Beside him in the matching wing back, Richard read a stack of papers, oblivious to them both.

      Caroline worked steadily, and when she was finished she looked over her notes one final time, then rose from her chair.

      “All done?” Richard asked, coming to where she stood, smiling at her again.

      He was a nice man and Caroline felt at ease with him. Like a brother, she guessed, though she didn’t actually have a brother to compare him to. But Richard had been equally pleasant at last Saturday’s party where she’d met him, and so far, he’d been the only amiable thing about tonight. She was sorry she’d slapped him.

      “Yes, all done,” she said.

      “Maybe you could tell Stephen a little about graphology?” Richard suggested.

      He was in the chair now, his legs crossed, his fingers propped together in front of his chest. When he looked up at her a little ripple of something passed through Caroline. Nerves, she decided. What else could it be?

      “Graphology is the study of СКАЧАТЬ