A Man Most Worthy. Ruth Axtell Morren

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СКАЧАТЬ from his work, Nick’s gaze flickered up. “I beg your pardon?”

      A look of annoyance crossed the young man’s fine features. “Never mind. I shall look for myself. Come on, Lucy.” He beckoned to the young lady standing at his side.

      “Alice wouldn’t hide in here,” she said with a toss of her head. “Why are we wasting our time in this stuffy hole? There’s nothing but dust and paper in here.” As if to prove her point, she sneezed.

      “You’re right.” With a sniff, the young gentleman backed out the door. The girl followed after him. Their voices faded down the corridor. “We shall find you, Alice. You can’t hide from us!”

      Silence descended once more in the office. Before Nick had a chance to move, the girl stood in one quick motion, smoothing down her skirt. “Thank you ever so much, Mr.—”

      “Tennent,” he said without thinking, pushing his chair back and standing.

      She bobbed a quick curtsy then studied him a moment. He wondered what those stunning eyes saw. More than the other girl, no doubt, who had looked right past him as if he’d been no more than the blotter on his desk.

      “You’re Father’s secretary?”

      He nodded. So, this lovely creature was the offspring of Mr. Shepard.

      She put a finger to her chin and tilted her head. “This is the first time he’s brought his secretary out to Richmond, at least as far as I can recall.” Her cheeks dimpled. “But then, I’m rarely home myself, so I wouldn’t know.”

      He fingered the pencil he still held in his hand, trying to maintain a poise he was far from feeling. “I imagine your father wanted to have this project finished as quickly as possible. It demands much time and attention right now.”

      She cast a glance over the papers on his desk. “All Father’s projects seem to require much time and attention.” Was that irony in one so young? Her lashes, the same deep coppery tone as her hair, formed deep curves against the delicate, pale skin.

      He frowned at her statement. “One doesn’t rise to the importance of Mr. Shepard without a lot of time and effort.”

      Her eyes came up to study him. “You admire him.”

      “There is much to be admired.” He lifted his chin a trifle defensively.

      She ran a slim forefinger along the edge of the beat-up desk as she walked around it. He found he could breathe slightly easier when she’d moved a few feet away from him. “Most people do, don’t they?” She glanced back at him, her finger still on the desk. “Admire him, I mean?”

      “I imagine they do.”

      She nodded. “Is he a nice employer to you?”

      He raised his eyebrows at her direct question, unaccustomed to someone asking him about his situation. “I have only been in his employ a fortnight, and it is not my place to comment on your father’s treatment of his employees.”

      “Of course not. You were very cool to Victor.”

      Her statement threw him, until he realized she was referring to the young gentleman just in the room. “A playmate of yours?”

      “I’ve known them both since childhood.”

      “Does that make them your friends?”

      She tilted her head and a slow smile spread across her face. “I…don’t know. I’d never really thought about it.”

      As if the mention of them summoned them, he heard their voices once again from the end of the corridor.

      “Now, I say, Alice, we’ve searched this place from top to bottom—”

      She sighed and took a step toward the door. “I’d better leave you to your work before they barge in on you again. I do apologize for interrupting your work, Mr. Tennent. I’m sure it’s important.”

      He shook his head, trying to dispel the wave of disappointment he felt at her departure. “No need to apologize.” He looked down at his column of figures, reassuming a business-like tone. “Good day to you, Miss Shepard.”

      “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Tennent.”

      She sounded like a society lady, the kind of women he only saw from a distance in London. Hearing Victor’s voice closer, she flashed him a smile then spun on her heel and left the room, once again the young schoolgirl.

      Victor and Lucy pounced on her as soon as they saw her. “Where in the world were you?”

      Alice laughed, the sound coming out breathless and excited. “You sillies, I was behind you all the time.” She’d moved far enough from the office door that they wouldn’t suspect where she’d come from.

      Victor turned away from her and marched in the direction he’d come from. “I say, this game is silly. I, for one, am too old to be playing at hide-and-seek.”

      Alice stifled a laugh. He only thought it was silly because he hadn’t found her. “All right, what do you suggest we do?”

      At the moment all she wanted to do was be alone somewhere and ponder the encounter she’d had with Papa’s new secretary. Miss Shepard. The way he’d said it sounded so grown-up and ladylike. Everyone else called her Miss Alice. She would not be Miss Shepard for another year-and-a-half at her coming out.

      In those few moments of conversation, she’d felt taken seriously by an adult. A young gentleman, at that. Her heartbeat quickened at the intensity of his gaze.

      She went over his features in her mind. Dark, short-cropped hair over a high forehead, a thin face, a high-bridged nose. But most arresting were his deep-set eyes, their irises almost black, the eyebrows straight and dark above them before arching outward.

      “Let’s go riding.” Victor’s voice, always peremptory when he wanted something, brought her thoughts to a halt.

      “It’s too hot to go riding.” Lucy sounded peevish.

      She took the girl by the arm. “Come along, we can take a walk in the grove. It’ll be cool in the shade.”

      Two weeks of holidays stretched out before her. How she’d hoped that she’d be able to see Father. But he was always off to London and she was forced to entertain unwanted guests. There’d be no peace now until she returned to school.

      Alice stood on the grassy tennis court, her attention fixed on Victor, her racket held firmly in her hand. “Come on, put some spirit into your serve.”

      Just as she knew they would, her words brought a frown to his face. The next second, he slammed the rubber ball across the net.

      But she was ready. The ball sailed out of her reach. With a laugh, she sprang towards it and then hit it dead-on with her racket. It went flying back, forcing Victor to sprint to connect with it. “I say, you’re not playing the game as it should be played.”

      She laughed again. “I’m playing it the way I saw it played at Wimbledon last spring!”

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