It was impossibly hard not to let Mr. Donahue’s presence affect her. From the moment she’d entered the dining room and her gaze found him, she’d been enthralled. Her heart had fluttered about with mad abandon as he’d approached, her stomach swirling like water vanishing down a drain.
Curiously, his shadowed expression and rigid bearing did not offend or instill the tiniest hint of trepidation within her. On the contrary, she experienced a thrilling awareness while he perused her with unfeigned interest, and again when she placed her hand in the crook of his arm.
And when she’d slid into her seat and he’d brushed her with his fingers, her breath had caught while time stood still. A shiver had followed, not from discomfort or cold, but from overheated pleasure.
It was unlike anything she had experienced before, a new and profound sort of attraction made all the more acute by his masculine scent – a mixture of brandy and some deeper fragrance she failed to identify.
She stopped trying when he spoke of her departure.
Acute disappointment settled beneath her ribs. Of course she had to return to New York. That was her plan and one she could not abandon if she were to help her father. Yet she wished she’d have more time here in England – additional moments to spend with Mr. Donahue.
A silly notion to be sure, since no amount of delay would alter her fate. Or change the fact that she and Mr. Donahue were nothing to each other besides acquaintances of a sort. To suppose for even one second that there could be more was ridiculous. For all she knew, he already had a fiancée. Or maybe even a wife.
Sobering on that thought, she ordered a cream of asparagus soup along with the veal when the waiter returned. “I always found the veal to be one of the most tempting dishes prepared by Mrs. Elkins,” she told Mr. Donahue once he’d requested the same starter as she with roast duck for his main course.
He knit his brow. “It’s an excellent choice, though I would prefer not to be reminded of your time below stairs for the evening. It…unsettles me.”
“I’m sorry.” She’d not intended to cause him distress and thought it necessary to add, “As challenging as it was, I believe there’s a silver lining. Although I cannot claim an upbringing equal to a British peer, it was privileged nonetheless. My world was protected, so seeking employment offered an insight I never would have had otherwise.”
“One you never should have experienced,” Mr. Donahue told her gravely.
“It wasn’t easy for me, I’ll grant you. But it has given me an appreciation for the hard work required from household staff, or in this case hotel staff. I hope to use the knowledge well once it comes time for me to employ my own servants.”
Mr. Donahue visibly stilled. “When you marry, you mean?”
“Naturally.” She reached for her glass with trembling fingers and raised it to her lips while Mr. Donahue watched every move, his gaze intense, his every breath measured.
“Tell me about yourself.” He blinked as if surprised to hear his own voice. He seemed to shake himself free of the strange sensation, then added. “Were you born in New York, or did your family move there later?”
“I was born there,” she said. “So I’ve had the pleasure of watching the city transform. It’s a wondrous place, you know. Buildings are forever being constructed – it’s almost like a living creature, growing and expanding with each passing moment. And there’s so much culture to be found there too. People have come to New York from so many different places, it’s common to hear a variety of languages spoken whenever one steps outside and…” She paused, momentarily dazed by the quirk of his lips. “What is it?”
Mr. Donahue’s mouth stretched wider and since she’d never seen him smile before, it took her a moment to adjust – to gather her composure as it were – since the expression only made him all the more handsome. Which wasn’t something she’d have thought possible until then. But his eyes twinkled with rapt amusement while tiny dimples formed in his cheeks. The effect was so thoroughly attractive Calista suddenly understood why some ladies swooned in the presence of men. If they were like Mr. Donahue, they simply had the ability to rob a lady of breath.
He chuckled. “You speak with such open enthusiasm, Miss Smith. I must confess I find it not only refreshing but thoroughly entertaining.”
“You do?” She could not deny the pleasure his words stirred in her heart.
“English ladies tend to be more reserved. It makes it harder to figure out what they’re really like as people, whereas with you… I believe I’m starting to form an opinion already, and just so you know, it’s an extremely positive one.”
Heat flooded Calista’s cheeks. “I’m flattered.”
Their soups arrived and once the waiter had set them down and retreated, Mr. Donahue picked up his spoon. “Do go on.”
Calista hesitated only briefly before saying, “It’s an exciting place to live with such variety of culture and cuisine. I particularly enjoy Italian dishes. Oh, and there is some excellent Mexican food as well - some of it spicier than European fare but extremely flavorful.”
“I feel rather sheltered now by comparison,” Mr. Donahue confessed. “I’ve only ever had English or French cuisine, though I’d love to try a wider variety.”
“The simplest way to do so would be by coming to New York,” she said without thinking and swiftly slammed her mouth shut lest he think she was trying to encourage a deeper attachment between them. She took a spoonful of soup and tried to ignore the penetrating heat of his gaze.
“Possibly,” he agreed in a non-committal sort of way.
Lord, she was an idiot.
“What about you,” she hastened to ask for the sake of turning attention away from herself. “Did you grow up here in London?”
“No. I was born and raised in Devon.” He hesitated a moment as if gauging how to proceed before he emitted a heavy sigh and said, “On the family estate. My father was the Earl of Lakewood.”
She allowed that piece of information to settle. “So, you’re not just a successful businessman. You’re also nobility?”
“In a manner of speaking. I’m a third son.”
“Still…” She stared at him from across the table. The oil lamp placed between them bathed his features in a warm glow. “Should I be curtseying?”
“Yes,” he told her with the utmost gravity.
She nearly dropped her spoon. “Oh dear. I’m so—“”
“I jest, Miss Smith.” Again a hint of humor captured his features, easing the characteristic strain there for a moment. “If you curtsey to me I shall scold you severely. I much prefer to think of you as my equal.”
Calista wasn’t sure she could do so. This man had more pedigree than any other person of her acquaintance. Additionally, he’d built an impressive hotel which outdid all of Mr. Thorkilson’s construction projects. His wealth was apparent in the artwork gracing the walls, in the beautifully crafted Grecian columns and statues placed on display throughout the dining room, and in the colorful frescoes adorning the ceilings.
Additionally, he could probably trace his ancestry all the way back to the Battle of Hastings and beyond while she could only go back as far as her great-grandparents.
“You said your father was the Earl of Lakewood.” Calista knew it was an indelicate subject she probably ought to avoid, but curiosity got the better of her.
“Indeed,” Mr. Donahue said, his tone appropriately solemn. “He died six years ago. My older brother, Edward, is earl now.”
“And your other brother? You mentioned being the third son.”
A shadow fell across Mr. Donahue’s brow. “Nigel. He and I were both taken care of in Father’s will, though Nigel decided to spend his money differently. Do you have any siblings, Miss Smith?”
A waiter swept in to remove their soup bowls at that exact moment while another arrived with their next course.
“I do not,” Calista said while preparing to cut her veal. “Though I always did wish I’d had at least one.”
“They can be both a blessing and a curse,” Mr. Donahue murmured. “My relationship with Edward has always been solid, whereas Nigel and I have rarely seen eye to eye. A pity since he and I are closer in age.”
She ate some veal which was even better than she could have hoped. The tender meat melted on her tongue while the cognac-flavored sauce, spiced with crushed black pepper and herbs, filled her taste buds with joy.
“None of my relatives are the same age as I,” Calista said. “My cousins are either much older or younger. But I do have a few friends, some of whom I’ve known for most of my life, so they’re practically family. And then of course there are my parents.”
“Do you miss them?” he asked softly.
She nodded because of course she did. They’d been away in Washington D.C. when Mr. Thorkilson’s solicitor stopped by the New York townhouse. Clearly the man wished to know if her father had made any progress procuring the funds he owed. Before taking his leave, he reminded her of her father’s obligation. Papa only had two and a half months left in which to repay his debt in full, after which Calista would have to do so for him.
Thankfully, Peter had offered salvation by then. Calista had received his offer of marriage just one day prior and had decided she would accept. But when she’d written her father, informing him of her plan and requesting permission to travel abroad, she’d received no response.
Unwilling to waste additional time, she’d eventually chosen to handle the matter alone.
Her heart ached on account of the worry she knew Mama and Papa surely experienced each passing day when no further news arrived to assure them all was well. But how could she write and tell them the truth? How could she lie?
It would be at least another week and a half before her most recent letter reached them. Hopefully, she herself would arrive soon after.
Which brought to mind Mr. Donahue’s promise. “You said you’d found me a travel companion?”
“Yes.” He straightened, reached for the bottle of champagne, and refilled their glasses. “I have two guests. A Mr. and Mrs. Kernoff who intend to travel to New York next week on the twelfth. I’ve purchased a ticket for you on the same vessel with a cabin adjacent to theirs.”
A knot formed against Calista’s breast. Having her departure date confirmed was equally wonderful and…less so. She didn’t quite understand it but she regretted having to leave, even though she knew she had to. Her father needed her. If she stayed away there was no telling how Mr. Thorkilson might retaliate.
Remembering her manners, she smiled at Mr. Donahue. “Thank you. I’m forever in your debt.”
He stared back at her. “Forever is a very long time, Miss Smith. And frankly, I’m glad to be of service, though I wish our acquaintance would not be cut quite so short. The only thing for it, I suppose, is for us to make the most of the time we have left in each other’s company. Do you perchance play billiards?”
She blinked in rapid succession, a bit overwhelmed by each of the statements he’d made just now. Was he truly as sorry to part ways with her as she was with him? Why would he be? Surely a man in his position would not lack female companionship. And what exactly had he meant with regard to making the most of the time they had left?
Certain she must be reading more into his words than what he’d intended, she decided to answer the one question that had a simple answer. “No, Mr. Donahue. I have never even heard of the game.”