Seven
Rachel tapped her lips with her fan as she sat within her mother’s sitting room, slightly frowning. She checked the time on the hall clock seen through the doorway. Lunch would be served shortly and Robert hadn’t yet responded to the note she had sent to his hotel the previous evening, nor even to the secondary invitation to coffee she had sent that morning.
In fact, he hadn’t been seen since the adventure of her room’s redecoration two days before.
Pressing her lips together, Rachel stood and left the room. Oliver approached from the back hall. “Oliver.”
“Yes, Miss?”
“Mr. Trent said that he would indeed attempt another visit at a later time?”
“Yes, Miss.”
“I see.” Rachel’s brows momentarily furrowed, deepening when she heard her father stomping around in his office/study on the second floor. “Please arrange for me a carriage, Oliver.”
“Certainly, Miss. Right away.” Then he turned to do as requested, returning to the back staff offices on the left.
Rachel ascended the stairs and entered her room, noticing Maggie sitting in an overstuffed chair in the corner mending the hem of one of her gowns. Rachel crossed her arms, frowning as she wordlessly paced in front of her writing desk. Yes, she had been away longer than she thought she would be, but not so late that he couldn’t have returned later that morning for brunch. By Oliver’s estimation, he had only missed her by approximately thirty minutes.
“Has Mr. Trent come?” Maggie asked.
Rachel gave a slight twitch as she focused on her friend. “Pardon?”
“Mr. Trent?” she asked again, not lifting her gaze from her stitching. “Has he come to try again for coffee this morning? I know as how you sent a note this morning.”
“No, confound the man.” Rachel’s frown deepened as she turned away.
“I wonder if he made his way to the orphanage. That may be why he didn’t wait yesterday. It could be why he’s not yet visited this morning. Those wee ones love the man and are fit to be tied when it’s time for him to leave.” Maggie softly giggled. “He’s a nice man, that Mr. Trent,” she observed, not noticing Rachel’s sudden focus. “Handsome. And such a wit, he is. One forgets about his impish pranking when he puts on the charms.”
Eyebrow arching, Rachel absently opened her fan to stir the air around her face. “All this you’ve managed to observe in but a few meetings of the man, Maggie?”
Maggie met Rachel’s gaze with a mischievous expression. “Fine, so I stretched the truth a bit, but not much more than a baker’s dozen have I met the gentleman, Rach. There isn’t much to confess that he won’t tell you himself if you ask, and I’m more than a little certain he’d rather you ask than have me confess it.”
Rachel smirked. “Yes, I do believe you are right.” There sounded a knock. “Enter.”
“Excuse me, Miss,” Oliver said as he entered. “The carriage is waiting.”
“Ah. Thank you, Oliver. I shall be there presently.”
“Carriage?” Maggie prompted. “Where you be off to?”
“I’ve dedicated myself to discovering why a second attempt at coffee hasn’t been made,” Rachel informed as she gathered her gloves from her vanity.
Maggie chuckled. “Don’t be too hard on him. As I said, he’s a nice man.”
Smirking, Rachel made her way from the room and down the stairs to the front hall. She accepted help into her coat and hat from Oliver, wondering to herself why she felt the need to seek the gentleman out. Unable to answer, Rachel could only arch an eyebrow at herself as she made her way outside and then accepted the coachman’s help into the carriage. However, once the carriage had progressed barely a half-mile from the front gates of the Samson estate, Rachel snapped her fan closed and ordered the driver to stop the carriage.
“Yes, Miss,” came the muffled reply, and the carriage immediately rumbled to a halt.
Yet the thought of returning to the house to share coffee with no one save a grousing father didn’t appeal. I’m not so desperate for the gentleman’s company that I must venture out for it, am I? Rachel exhaled an exasperated sigh and whipped open her fan only to immediately close it again. “Blast,” she muttered under her breath. Louder she ordered, “Help me out,” as she reached out to open the door.
The driver scrambled down from the carriage and did as commanded, carefully steadying her step as she alighted. Gauging the area, Rachel recognized her surroundings as being just past Boston Commons and gave the driver a dismissive nod before stepping forward down the sidewalk. The driver was left to blink and stare after her for several moments before Rachel heard the tell-tale sign of slow-moving horse hooves and the slight jingle of bit and bridle as the driver urged the horses to follow.
A smirk caressed the corners of her lips, but at the deeper thought and impression of the action the smile disappeared. Her father trained all his staff well; to do what was expected as well as what wasn’t. To interpret the situation and react appropriately. To always follow orders and never question. Rachel’s grip tightened on her fan. I am not an employee to be used as you see fit, Father. I’ve my own mind and wishes, and I’ll be my own woman! She had been trained well, her childhood the sacrifice, so how could she not follow her new instincts?
Rachel’s frown darkened, but when the sharp sound of horse hooves approached fast behind she turned to see a lathered dapple-gray gelding mounted by the familiar physique of “Robert!”
Robert pulled up on the horse’s bit and bridle, setting the horse practically back on its haunches while giving it barely enough time to adjust itself. Then he looked down to her, his brown eyes dark and lips pressed into a thin line. The action and the attitude teased Rachel’s eyebrow into its usual curve.
“Miss Samson,” he greeted in a tight voice, his frown moving to focus ahead of him. “I’m not in the best of moods.”
At the formal title, Rachel’s intrigue soared. “I see.”
Clenching his jaw, Robert simply adjusted his grip on the reins.
Still no eye contact. No embellishments on his greeting. No well-wishings or smiles. How odd. Rachel regarded him a moment more before inquiring. “Robert.”
His jaw muscle twitched. “Yes?”
“My apologies for missing your visit yesterday morning,” she began, gauging his reactions to see if that could be the reason for his attitude. When his frown darkened and his hold tightened on the reins, Rachel was hard-pressed to think that it wasn’t. Such a change in demeanor at my non-availability is absurd! “I did not realize the visit with my friend would take as long as it did. If you had but waited–”
Robert’s hard frown focused on her, the obvious spark of temper within their depths heightened by a secondary expression she couldn’t read. “Miss Samson,” he barked, “I told you my mood is foul. I haven’t time nor tolerance for your excuses.” And with that he prodded the horse quickly away.
Both of Rachel’s eyebrows rose as she watched the horse speed away down the busy thoroughfare. The only other time she had seen him lose his temper in such a way had been with her father. Though she had pushed and prodded and goaded him on the train, always had he shown patience and a quirk of lip that had hinted at a deeply-seeded air of mischief. How interesting. But…why?
Rachel didn’t have time enough to answer, however, for her mind immediately focused on the fact that he again pulled the horse to a sudden and complete stop. In fact, horse and rider didn’t move for several moments. When he finally turned the beast and headed again to her location, she delicately crossed her arms to watch his approach.
This time he stiffly dismounted. “I apologize,” he said through clenched teeth as he glared at the ground. “That was uncalled for.”
She regarded him for a long moment, doing her best to categorize the hardness to his expression and the darkness to his eyes before responding. “Accepted.” She continued to scrutinize his expression as his glower remained focused on the ground at their feet, one hand firmly gripping the reins of his lathered dapple-gray gelding while the other tightly held his riding crop. “Robe–”
“You don’t want to know,” he interrupted in a black tone.
“You’re in a mood as dark as death and you believe that?”
This time he met her gaze, his handsome face still a stony mask. “Do not ask.”
One finger absently tapped upon her upper arm as she regarded him. “Why?”
“Rachel,” he warned, his jaw once again beginning its rhythmic pulsing.
“If your mood has nothing to do with my person, then I accept the request and will no longer inquire. If not….” Rachel gave a delicate shrug, not looking away from his dangerously black-brown eyes. “I believe I deserve to know.”
Robert fisted his hands so tightly the knuckles popped. “Not now,” he warned again.
Rachel released a quick breath, her irritation sparking into existence. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t wish to lose my temper and ask questions that are none of my business,” Robert pressed, each word enunciated and spoken with extreme calm, “thereby putting you into a rage and making each one of us angry at the other. This is my issue and I will deal with it, only do not ask!”
Rachel opened her mouth to vocalize another press; however, the expression in his eyes and the way he fisted his hands halted the words and had her inclining her head. “Very well.”
“Thank you,” he responded, and his tone was as tight as before. Then he looked away and tapped his riding crop against his thigh.
She couldn’t help but watch him, categorizing his expressions while being amazed at how… real they were when in comparison to the practiced responses and manipulations of those other men of her acquaintance.
“How was your visit with your friend?” he finally asked, his tone firmly controlled though his jaw muscle twitched and jumped.
Guilt reared and Rachel looked away. “Enjoyable.” Out of the corner of her eye she noted a cringe. “I have invited him for dinner at a later date if you would care to attend.”
“No,” he denied almost too curtly to be polite. “Thank you.”
That denial drew her entire focus. Still, only the firmly controlled calm that shouted irritation and… something more. “I see.” Rachel tapped another rhythm upon her upper arms, gauging him as he frowned at the carriage that still waited for her presence. Finally, Rachel released an exasperated breath and lowered her arms to her sides. “I do not understand this attitude of such extreme irritation, Robert. There was no standing appointment between us–”
“ ‘Appointment’,” Robert repeated harshly as he faced her. “ ‘Appointment’?” The secondary repeat sounded suspiciously close to a hiss.
She momentarily clenched her jaw before correcting, “Engagement.”
Robert held her gaze, fists clenching and unclenching as his breathing whistled in her ears. “Miss Samson,” he began, his voice overly calm, “you offered me your favor and accepted my intention to court. If you have other plans for your favor, inform me now so that I might give it back again.”
“ ‘Other pla–’ ” Rachel blinked. “What on earth do you mean by ‘other plans’?” She motioned toward him. “I have accepted your offer. There are no other plans.”
“And what of your childhood sweetheart?”
Confusion darkened her eyes and lowered her brows to a frown. “I’m afraid I don’t understand your meaning.”
Robert scoffed, which raised Rachel’s eyebrow yet again but didn’t inflate her temper, much to her surprise. “My meaning is that I am under the impression you might prefer to have your ‘friend’ as your beau rather than myself. Heaven knows I would not wish to come between you and a previous romantic entanglement.”
Rachel regarded his black expression while attempting to reason how he could have discovered the truth of her past with Todd and why it would make any differe– “La--you were jealous?” And it horrified her that the thought brought a bit of warmth within.
Robert scoffed again and looked away, but he didn’t vocalize a denial.
“Do you truly believe I would pursue another’s affections after encouraging your courtship?” While Rachel couldn’t hide the irritation and annoyance, neither could she restrain the smattering of guilt. She had known very well that her action in visiting Todd could have been construed as a pursuit.
The tapping of the crop against his leg began again, paused, and then restarted.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she muttered, briefly looking away. When she faced him once more, his eyes were momentarily there to meet hers. “Come to a future dinner with him and you will see the true showing of my affection for him. Todd Richards is a close friend, yes, but more a link to a past I had stolen from me, if you will. Nothing more. Nothing less.” And that confession surprised her more than she cared to admit.
Then she reluctantly smirked, ignoring the shifting of the numbness within. “While I appreciate the jealousy and what it signifies for my supposed desirability,” the seriousness returned and she pointed toward him with her closed fan, “I do not appreciate how this jealousy implies a lack of trust on the… resolve of my decision. If you are indeed sincere in your offer to court in order to present me a supposed ‘less painful option’, then you will kindly give me the courtesy of trusting the sincerity in my acceptance.”
To Rachel’s surprise, the darkness within his gaze and the hardness of his face melted to reveal the boyish smirk and smile she remembered. Then he chuckled and very slightly shook his head. “You’re right, Rachel, and I apologize. I suppose I’ve a bit too much ego to spare.”
She arched an eyebrow while voicing a simple, “Hm,” and slowly crossing her arms.
His smirk twitched. “Thank you for calling me to the carpet so… eloquently. God has been attempting to teach me the same lesson for years. Unfortunately, I don’t listen very well at all.”
Rachel fought the smile and only allowed her arched eyebrow to twitch.
He laughed this time and reached out to gently touch her arm. “So… coffee? We aren’t too far from where I’m staying, as you likely know.”
The same reluctance rose within, even making her politely withdraw her arm from his touch. “Yes, of course,” she forced. She didn’t understand the emotion, especially considering her appreciation of his company so far. In fact, even Robert looked as if he would ask a question, but then he only smiled before moving to offer the reins of his dapple to her carriage’s driver.
Once the two moved down the walk, he settled into step beside her. “Mr. Richards seems a… pleasant sort.”
Rachel looked over at him in mild surprise. “Have you met him? I found myself wondering how you could have been presented with enough information to feed your jealousy.”
Robert cleared his throat. “I’ve met him once, by accident, while I groused that you had other friends besides myself.”
“Certainly you have friends other than my person,” Rachel countered.
“Yes, but I’m a man and you’re a woman. You aren’t allowed any other companions save the one courting you.”
If it hadn’t been for the fact that his tone was clearly sarcastic and his brown eyes so glittered with mischief as to be unmistakable, Rachel would have likely done her best to cut him to the quick, likely slapping him in the process. Instead, she smirked. “I see.”
“You don’t particularly care for following the simplest of rules, do you?” he continued, eyes still laughing at her.
“No.” She focused ahead and delicately opened her fan to gently stir the air by her face.
“How….”
Rachel cast him a sidelong glance.
“…modern of you.”
A slight lift of her fan hid her smile.
“Definitely one of your most beguiling features,” he complimented, his voice low as his elbow and arm slightly brushed and nudged hers. “One that, I imagine, is so often unappreciated.”
The smile melted to a frown as her action of fan quickened slightly. “In a society led by close-minded men afraid of women who can wield power and authority with as much tenacity and skill as they?” She scoffed. “More likely ignored or branded forward than appreciated.”
Robert regarded her profile and then voiced a cautious, “On behalf of my close-minded gender, I apologize.”
She scoffed again, but only to hide the smirk. His actions and respect toward her had already been considered an apology, of sorts, for the statements and views she had witnessed and endured to that point in her life experience.
“I know,” he acknowledged. “It isn’t nearly enough.”
“Good night,” she protested, sending him a frown. “I’m not so lily-soft and delicate that I need an apology for what I’ve already come to accept as the popular view.”
The boyish mischief returned to his expression. “Of course not, but it’s– Well, never mind.”
She arched an eyebrow, and he chuckled as he looked away. “An instinct tells me you say it to see the reaction.”
“I?” he asked, his voice shocked and eyes wide as he pressed a hand to his chest. “Say something simply for a reaction? How… predictable.”
Rachel allowed the smirk this time. “Hm.”
Robert laughed and then offered her his arm, which she accepted. “Be careful, my dear. You interpret and predict my reactions too soon and you’re likely to grow tired of my company before you grow fond of it.”
“Doubtful, as you and Todd are the only men of my acquaintance who don’t insult my intelligence.”
“Yes, well, why would I insult that which I find the most entrancing?”
She examined his profile as they walked, the admittance causing another shift within. Yes, she had been told she was entrancing and beautiful and desirable, but her hidden persona being titled as such? No. That hadn’t ever been the subject of conversation with men. They had always spouted poems and partial sonnets of her hair and eyes and lips. Robert Trent complimented her on those aspects that had never been appreciated, save by Todd and Maggie, and each time he did so she could feel an inner balance being… toppled.
Rachel shifted her scrutiny to the sidewalk, but this was drawn back again when Robert covered her hand upon his arm. She moved her focus to the action with an arched eyebrow, doing her best, and failing, to categorize her response to the outward showing of… affection? When she lifted her eyes to an examination of his face, he still focused ahead and his expression appeared to be simple enjoyment.
“I don’t suppose you could be persuaded to forgo coffee and share luncheon with me?” he inquired. He glanced toward her, smiling. “I have it on good authority that the weather is to be clear and that the view from the restaurant at my hotel is… divine.”
“Father had an appointment, so he likely threatened the heavens with harm had it been different,” she informed coolly.
Robert chuckled. “While I don’t believe your father has that much authority, I do appreciate the fact the good Lord listened to his suggestion. It has been quite a while since I had a stay from my studies, and these past few days have been very enjoyable to say the least.”
Rachel examined his profile, holding his gaze when he met her scrutiny. “Studies? But certainly you’ve finished schooling as I have.”
“Unfortunately, the study of life in business never ends. So, relentless task-master that my father is, I am always involved in the study of it.”
“The study of life in business?” Rachel repeated, eyebrow arching upward. “That sounds intriguing.” Then she halted and faced him, motioning toward him with her closed fan. “Give an example, pray.”
Holding her gaze with that same slight smile of expression, Robert rubbed lightly at his chin. “Of course. Let me think–Ah. Rightly so.” Then he presented his hand as in greeting or introduction. “While this is the simplest of instances, I believe it will admirably serve… Rachel?”
Rachel, who had simply stared at his presented hand while studying its position, finally looked up to meet his mildly amused expression. “You have presented the hand as if I were a man,” she observed.
He nodded. “I understand, but it goes to prove a point.” Lowering her focus yet again to his presented hand, she regarded the possibilities of point and necessity before clasping it. Robert smiled. “You have a firm clasp, Rachel. Good for you. Determined and yet not so tenacious as to feel threatening. Only assured. Now, what of mine?”
She processed the information he presented with an air of distracted concentration before interpreting the parallel’s and applying it to his own clasp. “Warm.” Her cheeks flushed slightly as she continued. “Firm. Not rough in the shaking of mine. Accepting of my pressure and returning of the same.”
When Robert laughed, Rachel lifted her focus from their shaking hands. “All right,” he said as he released her clasp, “so I chose too simple of an example.”
“What do you mean? I explained your clasp as you did mine.” She motioned to his right hand, now tucked within his trouser pocket. “How does this matter to the ‘life in business’ mentioned?” she prompted, again meeting his gaze.
“Relate the clasp to what you know of my person.”
Rachel blinked and her eyes slightly widened. “Intriguing.”
“What is?”
“That such a simple action would give a clear representation of the person’s character.”
He regarded her a moment with the same amused expression before once more presenting his hand. “Try again.”
Intrigue and enjoyment of the simple yet intricate exercise twinkled in Rachel’s emerald gaze as she accepted his hand—and then immediately pulled away. She frowned at him with a near sneer of disgust.
“What?” he prompted, withholding a smile.
“It was limp and… and…. Don’t be absurd, Robert Trent. You’re no more a… a… weakling than I.”
Robert laughed. “All right, all right, my dear. I apologize the disgust.” Once again he presented his hand. “How about now?”
This time, however, Rachel hesitated her acceptance of the proffered hand, continuing to frown at it before reaching out. She had only barely accepted his hand when she quickly pulled back, voicing a gasp and sending him a look of surprise.
“Oh, my dear,” he said while leaning forward. Robert took the offended hand into a gentle hold as he closely watched her face. “Did I hurt you? I tho–”
“No. I was only so very taken aback.” She met his apologetic gaze. “Are there men who shake hands that aggressively? Even a woman’s?”
He continued to gently rub her fingers as he smiled down at her. “While a shock, yes. Some truly don’t know their own strength. Or, rather, they don’t realize the aggression they exude. If you prepare yourself beforehand to the possibilities, you can gauge and use that information in the boardroom. Elsewhere, for that matter.”
“Intriguing. I never imagined.” She motioned to his hold. “Surely they won’t shake my hand as you have. Won’t they expect a more traditional greeting?”
“Perhaps. Unless you initiate.” Robert chuckled. “Wouldn’t that shock and amaze?”
Rachel smirked, thoroughly looking forward to the prospect. “Yes. I do believe it would.” Her smile vanished to seriousness, however, even as he continued his gentle rubbing motions. “How firmly should I grip? I don’t wish for them to know too soon my own character, do I?”
“Are you certain? Who would suspect a firm grip from a beautiful woman to actually be an accurate reflection of her persona? Haven’t you yourself confessed that men judge by your beauty and then rate you by that judgment? Even though you’ve displayed your intelligence and wit directly afterward.”
When he began to softly rub her palm, there was a resounding alteration to the rhythm of her heart, but she was so enamored and intrigued with the current study of “life in business” that she ushered it aside even though it slightly quickened her breathing. “You don’t believe they will regard the firm grip as any correlation between, just as they don’t with beauty and intelligence?”
“While I hate to categorize all by a few, I’m afraid my answer is ‘yes’.”
Her gaze focused once more on the duty of his hands gently stroking hers. “Interesting, interesting.”
Robert chuckled and then surprised her free from the intrigue by lightly kissing her knuckles. “Only you see it that way, my dear.”
Ignoring the rising heat in her cheeks, Rachel turned to again make her way down the sidewalk, her hand once again tucked into the nook of his arm. “Don’t be ridiculous. How can one not appreciate the intricacies to be found in business?”
“Good question; however, allow me to pose another: How can one not appreciate the intricacies to be found in, let’s say, needlework such as lace and the designing of a gown? Or the intricacies in planning a garden or a dinner party? There are intricacies in all actions of interest; we have but to look for them.”
“Point taken and accepted.”
He motioned to her. “Another example would be the intricacies in relationship: Actions to be done, actions not to be done, timing, persistence, communication; they all affect a final outcome.”
Rachel slowly nodded. “How intriguingly odd. I never took the time to see this correlation.” She lightly frowned. “I’m quite annoyed with myself.”
Patting her hand, Robert sent her an engaging and lopsided smile. “Don’t be. It has been a growing trend I’ve noticed, this failing to realize the investment relationships require. Quite a shame. So many friendships would be saved if they took the time to appreciate the intricacies therein.” He laughed. “Speaking of intricacies and hard work, you really must meet a good friend of mine. We’ve been friends since grade school…. Well, we shared the same tutor, at any rate. He’s coming for a visit later in the month, unless I can persuade him here earlier.”
She regarded him in mild surprise. “Certainly you have more than one ‘good friend’?”
“Hm? Oh. I have two close friends, truth be told.” At her continuing surprise, his smile widened. “Cultivating a friendship is hard work, as I said before. If a person attempts too many, disaster abounds. So, I’ve limited myself to no more than three close friendships and nearly a dozen acquaintances whom visit, or I visit them, once or twice each year to reminisce on school days and whatnot. We exchange letters upon occasion as well, of course. Perhaps a card or visit at Easter and Christmas.”
“And this friend you mention?” Rachel could hear the interest in her voice, which she supposed wasn’t wise to show quite so early, but Robert Trent intrigued her on so many levels.
“Hm?”
“This friend. Was he the gentleman for whom you attended Lynette’s party?”
Robert chuckled. “The very one, blast him. I’m still plotting a prank for that. Lynette nearly had me married off five different times. My friend and I finally had to retreat to the garden for a little peace of mind.”
Rachel regarded his profile as he stared ahead, one side of his lips forever tilted upward it seemed. Again and again she attempted to categorize his persona, and each time the category wouldn’t be had. He was neither complete rogue, nor complete romantic, nor complete nuisance… and she was quite certain the list would go on. He was a collection of facets that served very well to make a whole, intriguing man.
“You are an interesting compilation of mysteries, Robert Trent,” she admitted.
He raised an eyebrow but did not meet her gaze. “Oh? How so?”
“You aren’t… practiced.”
This time Robert sent her a sidelong glance followed by a slight wink, his brown eyes twinkling. “Thank you.”
She examined his face an additional moment before moving her focus ahead. She didn’t know what to think or feel, but she definitely didn’t mind his attentions. Attentions? Courting is the direct intent. And the thought that he did, in fact, attempt to court and woo when she was barely an acquaintance intrigued her even further. Rachel arched an eyebrow. What are the duties of a beau in regards to courtship?
“What has you so intensely silent and thoughtful?” he posed in a slightly amused tone.
Focusing on her surroundings, Rachel noted they had come to a stop opposite a hotel with a glass-ensconced restaurant on the west side. There was also a fountain with a pond and a collection of wooden and wrought-iron benches in a small park directly outside. Robert led her onto the lush greenery and offered her a seat upon one of the benches, which she accepted, and then sat down beside her. He turned slightly to face her, resting his arm and elbow upon the back of the bench.
“The last time I noticed you so intense,” he continued, “was the morning on the train when you confessed to your identity. Although, if I remember correctly, you wore a bit of a frown.” And he motioned to her brow with a single finger, nearly touching her skin.
Rachel arched an eyebrow as she scrutinized his expression. Interest and…. Hm. Something further she couldn’t name fairly danced within the brown eyes as they held her gaze. Why should I welcome his attentions more than those of, say, Mr. Traxin? Rachel wrinkled her nose and looked away, drawing up her fan to absently tease the air. ‘Why’ indeed! Mr. Traxin is a mouse among men, scrambling for the cheese while scared of his own scratchings.
Robert chuckled. “Rachel, don’t make faces such as that and then choose not to confess what has put you into a mood. It isn’t at all nice.”
Yet how could she, in all seriousness, confide that she was at a loss to know the duties of a beau or the expected reaction of the object of that beau’s affections? Rachel pressed her lips into a thin line, the fan pausing its motion now and again. Then, when she felt his scrutiny of her profile intensify, she forced the emotion some distance away. Whether it yet showed on her face or not would be revealed by–
“Rachel? What is troubling you?”
Rachel’s hands tightened their grip upon her fan. “Do not trouble yourself.” Humiliation! If the future of my life was to be marriage, why was that not a subject of study? Is Father determined to keep me off-balance so that I will forever be subject to another’s authority and instruction? Frustration rose in a nearly uncontrollable wave.
“Have I–”
“Do not assume that you are always to blame,” she retorted. He blinked, causing Rachel to shift her focus away and the motions of her fan to grow short and quick. “I apologize.” Apologies and scrapings for forgiveness! She pressed her lips together. Her headmistress would have pulled her into the office to receive a brow-beating at her inability to control her emotions.
“Rachel.”
She didn’t face him again, although how he said her name pulled at her to do so. His tone sounded more firm than it had before, and yet there was an undercurrent of gentleness that never ceased to intrigue her.
“While I won’t annoy and hound you with questions until you confess what bothers you, I’m more than willing to give you what answers and insights that I’m able.”
Rachel’s brow lowered. Given answers! Condescended insights! Why am I trained to research if I must ask rather than discover them on my own merit? Yet how could she discover anything if she didn’t ask those pertinent questions to guide the research? She scoffed and snapped her fan closed as she stood. When she moved to walk away, she felt Robert’s gentle yet firm clasp enfold her hand. Eyes sparked with chilled annoyance as she faced him.
Robert didn’t stand. He only slightly inclined his head. “I know, and I only invade your person because I’m concerned.” He slowly released her hand, but his gaze didn’t release hers as he regarded her. “Much as I fear I might be slapped for it, would you mind if I pose a question? It has bothered me since yesterday, and I don’t know how to resolve the issue.”
Rachel’s frown vanished as an eyebrow arched upward. “Certainly.” Although she had expected him to press the point of her irritation, whether or not he had stated beforehand that he wouldn’t.
Instead of immediately posing the question, however, he cleared his throat and lowered his gaze as he brought out his pipe from his inside suit-coat pocket and toyed with it with both hands. “As you– No. I must start elsewhere.” He pressed his lips together and began tapping his pipe against his hand, ears turning a definite shade of pink. “I will likely humiliate myself with the confession, but I’m not certain what is allowed in my relationship with you.”
Even he is uncertain of his duties? Rachel very nearly scoffed at the ludicrousness of it. “Allowed?”
Robert lifted his gaze from the pipe. “Yes. Those intricacies I mentioned before. Now that our tentative friendship is on a definite track toward something different than before, any boundaries I had previously given myself have faded. Rather than guess and stumble in the dark–”
“Robert,” Rachel interrupted with a reluctant smirk, “ask the question, if you would be so kind. There’s no need to ramble.”
His face and ears actually reddened as he lowered his eyes. “Ask a question that humiliates a rogue; dear me, what a prospect.” Then he released a quick breath. “Very well, I shall die a hero’s death and ask.” He met her gaze. “How tender and affectionate am I allowed to be toward you?”
Rachel actually paled, her chest tightening with a surprising torrent of fear as well as an emotion she could not recognize. A brief wave of lightheadedness even had to be pushed to the wayside.
The reaction was so extreme that it caused Robert to quickly stand and offer a hand to her elbow as well as a concerned, “My dear! Are you all right?”
His reaction so soon after the conversation and question had her stepping back from him in actual retreat, her eyes the only part of her unable to move from his. And though he had asked a legitimate question, she didn’t know how to respond. Finally, she forced her gaze away, focusing instead on the pebble path at her feet. “How tender and affectionate…?” How could she possible answer when the tenderness and affection he had displayed thus far had been almost forcefully accepted. At times even regarded with a twinge of suspicion.
Robert cautiously enfolded her hand in his, drawing her gaze. “I know that up to this point I have likely pressed certain boundaries that would have been wiser left alone, what with the kissing of hands and helping self to same.” He lifted her hand and very slightly smiled. “As I have done yet again.” Releasing his hold, he immediately clasped his hands behind his back. “Considering you’ve known me a total of… three days? Four? I believe my actions might be inappropriate. However, considering a voiced intention to court and an acceptance, they aren’t. Such would be my point of confusion, or rather, my hesitancy.”
Rachel stared up at him before giving a slight shake of her head. “I cannot answer this question,” she told him. “I–” Rachel pressed her lips into a thin line. “I have no qualifications to do so.” Blast and damnation!
“Qualifications?” he repeated with a mild tone of incredulity. “Rachel, qualifications have nothing to do with how I’m to treat you. All that should influence your decision is what you feel appropriate and acceptable. I don’t wish to make you at all uncomfortable.”
Yet he had caused her to be uncomfortable with the voicing of the question, much to her chagrin. Rachel’s brow furrowed slightly as she looked away. “ ‘What you feel appropriate and acceptable,’ ” she repeated with chilled calm. “A simple enough statement but by no means a simple guide to response.” She tapped several staccato beats upon her upper arm before almost tenaciously meeting and holding his brown gaze. “I have no… basis to feel anything. I have been trained to regard life as a business opportunity. Feelings and appropriate levels of petting between a man and woman never once came into the realm of my studies. How, then, am I to answer your question?”
“With your heart,” he answered easily and quietly.
Rachel scoffed and opened her fan, the action serving to hide the cringe. “A heart filled with a passion for business and hidden meanings. Base an answer on that for something it hasn’t been trained to answer: Disaster.”
He remained silent for a long time, but when he said, “Rachel, I need to know the boundaries,” the sudden presence of tightness within his tone once more drew her focus. He actually swallowed hard, glancing away several times as he cleared his throat. “If I act upon my own… inclination,” he resumed in a calmer voice, “I will likely distance myself from any possibility of a friendship. I would rather that not happen.”
Her brow lowered momentarily. “Why must I make a decision regarding boundaries when you have set and held to an apparent level of progression?”
Robert clenched his jaw as he held her gaze, but his expression didn’t seem irritated or angry. It only appeared intense. He slightly shook his head. “Rachel, please. Do not put that responsibility solely on my person.”
Irritation began to rise within. “I do not understand why I must be held in such a position of responsibility and leadership.” She snapped her fan closed and pointed at him with it. “Up to this point, brief as it may be, you have shown yourself to be trustworthy and… and… and it does not matter!” she finished emphatically. “I do not know what boundaries to set in this. Never have I experienced what would be classified as a ‘mature’ or ‘intimate relationship’, and yet you wish for me to set the boundaries?” She scoffed. “You must lead in this, Robert, for I have no experience and am unable to do so!”
At the admittance of weakness and limitation, Rachel experienced an extreme slip of bodily control and actually stomped her foot before glaring off in the distance. Unable? she protested inwardly. Why can I not do this as well as– A hand tenderly touched her back and Rachel stiffened, yet she forced herself to accept the action. He didn’t retreat from it, either. He only continued to offer her the comforting showing of affection and support, bombarding Rachel with the memories of deeper embraces shared between her and her father; her and Todd; her and Maggie; her and her mother–
Rachel fisted her hands and shut her eyes tight. She didn’t want to banish the memories, and yet she did not want to face them when her future had been so completely altered from what she once had. Robert Trent’s touch was the first she had accepted in years, other than Todd’s friendly embrace, and that amount of trust to bestow to a near stranger exhausted her. But he had vocalized an intent to court. Then he exhibited the same, even going so far as to show jealousy for a possible threat to his standing within her life. Then the acknowledgment of an attraction to her persona. Now a wish for a boundary she didn’t know how to set…. Rachel felt off-balance and ready to tumble, especially when he had decided to give her the control.
What man willingly relinquished control?
Robert released a quiet breath and gave her back one soft stroke before shifting his position enough to make eye contact. Then, to her astonishment, he smiled. “Rachel, if it seems I push too many boundaries, please tell me. More than anything I want to respect your needs and wishes.”
“Needs?” she repeated incredulously. “Wishes? What do I know of those? When I left home I was a fourteen-year-old who had her head so filled to the brim with fairytales and romantic desires of true love that she saw it in every glance and on every handsome face.” Rachel scoffed and turned away, raising her fan to somewhat stiffly stir the air about her face. “Six months in the supposed city of love had me loathing the very word. That is why I cannot be placed in the lead of our relationship. I would do my best to chase you distant, so that I could be assured of my independence and control. No. I know nothing of needs and wishes, as I haven’t been a woman in any sense of the word for eight years.”
Yet another failing.
The silence that followed hung in the air with a heaviness that was neither awkward nor angry. It was simply intense and–
Robert cleared his throat and moved to stand more in front of her, going so far as to again gather her hands into his. She tensed but did not pull away. “Independence does not make you any less of a woman, Rachel,” he informed in an almost careful tone of voice. “Neither does your assurance, or your determination, or your intelligence. Those are the qualities that I find the most intriguing and attractive.”
“Debating and discussions? Oh yes, those are very attractive indeed,” she said coldly, turning away and pulling her hands from his grasp. “Pouring facts in place of tea. Weaving business plans rather than monogrammed handkerchiefs.” But his secondary confession of the attraction and intrigue caused another powerful slip within. One that she couldn’t categorize.
“The debates I’ve had with you….” Robert released a slow breath and then gently turned her to face him; her gaze was there to hold his, tenacious. “Rachel, the debates and discussions we’ve shared have drawn me to you in a way I never thought possible. You’re a very beautiful woman, and the fact that you fully utilize your potential as well as your quick mind….” Robert lifted one hand in a gesture of loss. “I don’t know what I could possibly say to fully express the attraction. When you speak to me, you speak to my mind and my heart.”
Rachel blinked in surprise.
“That is why I don’t want to be solely responsible for leading the… tenderness within our relationship,” he confessed. “I am highly attracted to you, and the more I learn of you the deeper the fascination. The more pleasant the experience of exploring your persona.”
Her scrutiny of his expression deepened, as did the suspicion… and a deeper emotion kept well hidden.
Robert suddenly smiled. “As I said, my father swears I’m a rogue. I never follow traditional views.” He chuckled. “And you, Rachel Samson, are anything but traditional.”
Unable to help herself, she surrendered to a slight smirk. “No. I suppose I am not.”
Expression softening, Robert lifted a hand to brush some stray blonde curls from her forehead. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he confessed softly, his hand lingering at her cheek to cup it and gently stroke the skin with his thumb.
Rachel shied back from him at the touch, the flush to her cheeks heightening a form of panic that tensed her entire body and quickened her heartbeat.
Robert cleared his throat and stuffed his hands deeply into his pockets. “I apologize,” he said, his voice oddly gruff and yet…. Then he sent her what appeared to be an uncomfortable smile before motioning behind him to the restaurant. “Do you risk luncheon with me after such a confession?” He motioned, also, to the carriage with his dapple affixed behind. “Or should I allow you a well-timed withdrawal?”
Reluctance battled with intrigue and curiosity this time, as well as a deeper desire of something that she didn’t want to take the time to scrutinize. But the withdrawal would take her to a home where fantasies waited that had died long ago. She shifted her focus from his handsome expression of welcome to the carriage with the Samson family crest.
“Rachel.”
She met his gaze to notice a now guarded expression.
He motioned to the carriage. “I will call this evening, with your permission. For now, I think I’ve pressed you enough.”
Rachel clenched and unclenched her hands upon her fan, her lips pressed into a thin line as she scolded herself for wanting the retreat as much as she wanted to remain and have the attention. Soon thereafter the recognizable and mostly welcome numbness swallowed both, leaving her the freedom to incline her head and vocalize an unmoved, “This evening, then.”
Robert regarded her a moment before presenting his hand. “Good day, Miss Rachel Samson.”
She slipped hers into his but made no effort to press or withdraw; her hand was simply there. Then she gave a brief and small curtsy before turning and accepting the driver’s help into the carriage. When the carriage began its return home, Rachel caught sight of Robert standing still in the same place as before, watching the carriage retreat with hands in his pockets. She looked away, but she felt the slip and tumble of something soon to fall.