Phillip kicked a piece of rock with the toe of his boot. He’d wandered around the construction site most of the day, roasting like a Christmas goose in the hot summer sun. He had no reason to linger, other than the silly desire to see one particular woman. With no word from her, he had no idea when—or if—she planned to return.
He refused to believe she’d left for good. This project was too important to her. No, she was upset with him and merely taking time to cool down. Eventually she would come back and he could apologize for upsetting her.
Then all would resume as normal.
The interminable wait was killing him, however.
Thankfully construction continued at a steady pace. No rumblings of a strike, no sign of any threats. It was calm and steady, except for the occasional blast of dynamite and the hiss of the equipment.
Milliken had given both the day and night crews lectures regarding the safety of everyone on the site, including any woman present. Never mind that there was only one woman who would ever—
A flash of yellow caught Phillip’s eye. Eva. She was just coming through the main gate with her ever-present ledger in hand. Relief flooded him and he hurried toward her, dodging workers and dirt as he went, the heavy chug of the steam shovels drowning out his labored breath.
She wore a yellow skirt with a white cotton shirtwaist, a large hat shielding her face from the sun. She was like a bright spot of perfect sunshine amidst all this dirt and grime, one he’d sorely missed.
“Miss Ashford,” he called as he drew near.
Her head snapped up, expression giving nothing away as she spotted him. “Hello, Mr. Mansfield.”
Less than a rousing greeting, but he supposed he deserved that. “May I have a moment of your time?”
Lips compressed, she did not appear pleased at the request. Her gaze darted at the surroundings before she nodded. “Of course. I assume this is about the ongoing work here?”
Not even close. He gestured to the tiny shack. “In there?”
She led the way, chin high, ignoring the men as she sailed by. They all pointedly ignored her in return.
With the lock on the shack now dismantled, anything valuable belonging to Carew and Milliken had been removed. So when they entered, the space was mostly empty. The air was still and heavy from the humidity.
Her head swiveled to take it in. “Seems much larger.”
“I had them leave a chair and desk for you, but I wouldn’t keep anything of worth in here. We removed the lock.”
“That explains why there’s nothing about.” She removed her bonnet and set it on the desk. “What is it you wish to discuss?”
“I wanted to apologize.”
Tiny lines creased her forehead. “For what, exactly?”
“For the other night. I never should have said any of that.”
“You apologized—repeatedly—on the way home and I’ve already forgiven you.”
“Then why . . .” He took off his derby and ran his hand through his hair. “Then why did you disappear?”
“Is that what this is about?” He dipped his chin and she let out a sigh loaded with exasperation. “I had to visit a friend. I was not running away or avoiding you.”
“A friend?” God, was it a man? His stomach plummeted to the bedrock some thirty feet below. “Who was it?”
“Just a friend, Phillip,” she repeated, not meeting his eyes.
Emotion churned inside his gut, none of it welcome. She was keeping something from him, he could feel it. He’d never experienced jealousy before and he hated every second of this bleak doubt. But he had absolutely no right to be possessive of Eva—especially when he was the one publicly escorting another woman about town these days.
“Oh, my goodness. You’re jealous.” She came closer, peering at his face carefully.
Clearing his throat, he decided to be honest. “I’ve never been in this position before, Eva. I’ve never cared about my partners and whether they were with others outside of our time together. I don’t feel nearly as relaxed about where things stand with us, however. This is all quite unsettling.”
“You have your Miss Hall. I wouldn’t think you’d concern yourself about my social schedule beyond Monday and Thursday evenings.”
“Well, I do. Very much so. And I’ve explained the true nature of the relationship with Miss Hall. We are friends. Nothing more.”
“And I believe you.”
“Do you?”
“Of course. I’ll not play games with you. If I were worried about your motives I would speak up. Though I think it best to remember what this is between us.”
Wariness crept into his gut, a discomfort that had him frowning. “And what is this, exactly?”
“A casual affair, nothing more. We both have our reasons for not pursuing anything serious.”
He supposed that was true, but he hadn’t expected such bluntness from her. Most women agreed to his terms but tried to circumvent them by pushing for more of his time. Or they professed their feelings in the hopes he’d reciprocate. Followed him and faked a chance meeting to pressure him in a public setting.
Yet Eva ran from him every chance she got. No matter how much she gave, he always wanted more. He was quite greedy when it came to Lady Eva Hyde.
If only she were as greedy in return.
“This may not be serious,” he said, “but I do worry about you. I would never want you coming to harm, whether on my construction site or crossing the street. And with no word from you for five days, I thought I’d go out of my mind from the panic.”
Her face softened and she put a hand on his chest. “I was visiting a friend in Newport. An older woman. No man anywhere in sight, I swear it, and no risk to my person at all.”
He was embarrassed by the huge wave of relief that swept over him. Lifting her hand, he brought it to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “You think I’m being ridiculous.”
“No, I would worry if the roles were reversed in this case, and I apologize for my thoughtlessness. I was quite busy but that’s no excuse for ignoring you or my duties here.”
“If you mean your duties at the site, then do not concern yourself. If you mean your duties at Twenty-Fourth Street . . .”
One side of her mouth lifted and she peeked at him through her lashes, her body leaning into his. “Did you wait for me on Thursday?”
“Only for six hours or so.”
“Oh, Phillip. I never guessed you’d wait that long.”
He heard the unspoken truth in the last sentence. “But you hoped I’d wait. As penance.”
“Perhaps an hour. Two, at the most. Six is absolutely absurd.”
Cupping her jaw with his palm, he angled down. “No, absurd would be not waiting long enough and missing the chance to spend the evening buried inside you.”
He heard the swift intake of her breath before she moved in closer, her front nearly flush with his. “Perhaps I could make up for all that lost time.”
“You could,” he started, gripping her hips and grinning down at her. “However, it’s only Saturday.”
“Would you rather wait until Monday?”
“Definitely not.”
“Then come along, my dear man. You’ve waited long enough.”
Eva rose from the sofa as the trio of ladies marched through the door. Nora had invited two of her new American friends over for tea, insisting Eva take time from the construction site to meet them.
Though she had a multitude of more important tasks on her mind, Eva had agreed. How could she refuse Nora when the two of them had spent such little time together in the past few weeks?
Between the hotel project, Mrs. Mansfield’s summer cottage, and Phillip, Eva had hardly been available for visiting. So one afternoon of society gossip would not kill her.
Probably.
“Eva, it is my pleasure to introduce Miss Kathleen Appleton and Miss Anne Elliot. Kate and Anne, this is my dear friend, Lady Eva Hyde.”
The two young ladies stopped and performed an awkward curtsey. “No, none of that,” Eva said, coming forward. She thrust out her arm and shook hands with both girls. “It is lovely to meet you both. Nora has told me so much about you.”
Not a lie, as these two were Nora’s closest friends here in New York. Nora had said the girls were “blunt and mischievous . . . in other words, perfect.”
“And we’ve heard all about you, Lady Eva,” the one named Kate said. “You are astounding. A female who aspires to be an architect! I am amazed.”
Anne gestured toward her cousin. “Especially since she can’t trace her own hand, let alone draw up plans for an entire building. But I’m impressed as well, Lady Eva. You give us hope that women will one day be equal with men.”
Eva nearly snorted. She felt anything but equal most days, as the men never let her forget her gender and all she lacked. Namely, a penis.
“Perhaps one day. Mostly it’s a struggle.” She gestured to the seating area. “Shall we sit?”
Soon, everyone was seated and Nora poured tea. They talked of the weather and Eva’s first impressions of New York as they settled with cups and saucers. Kate and Anne were obviously very close, often finishing each other’s sentences, and Eva quickly felt right at home with them, just as Nora had promised.
“Please tell us all about the hotel project,” Kate said. “I ride by there frequently and I’m dying to know what’s happening behind the wooden fence.”
“Is it true they used dynamite to build out the bottom?” Anne asked, her eyes wide.
“To excavate the foundation, yes. We use dynamite because it is the fastest method available. Once the excavation is complete we’ll start building.”
“I think it’s all terribly exciting. Have you gone to see it, Nora?” Kate reached for a piece of poppy seed cake. “It must be fascinating.”
“The men are skittish with a woman around,” Eva told them. “I haven’t invited visitors because I hesitate to give them more reasons to despise me.”
“Despise you? How could such a thing be possible?” Anne asked.
Eva told them of nearly getting swept under the debris pile and then being locked in the wooden shack. “So it’s probably best not to rattle the men any further at this point. Perhaps in a few weeks’ time.”
Nora set down her saucer with a slap. “Eva, I had no idea. Why did you not tell me? You could be seriously hurt—or worse. What has Mansfield done about this? It is his responsibility to keep you safe.”
Eva hurried to reassure her friend. The last thing she needed was for Nora to accost Phillip on Eva’s behalf. Again. “He’s doing everything in his power to ensure I remain so. He was furious I’d been locked in the shack. He sent all the men home without pay, shutting construction down for the day.”
“That hardly seems enough,” Nora snapped. “Was the man responsible ever caught?”
“No, not yet.”
Brow lined with unhappiness, Nora drummed her fingers, nails tapping on the side of her porcelain teacup. “I don’t like this. And I don’t like him.”
“Oh, really?” Kate rushed out. “What is Phillip Mansfield really like, then? He’s quite handsome and—”
“Intense,” her cousin said.
“Yes, but also handsome,” Kate said.
Anne made a noise. “You said that already.”
“I know,” Kate agreed, “but it bears repeating. By the way, I hear he boxes.” She waggled her brows as if the idea were salacious.
Boxes? Eva pictured his bare shoulders and arms, well-defined muscle no wealthy scion should rightfully possess. Yes, boxing made sense. And that would explain the cuts on his cheek and brow a few weeks back. “Where did you hear that?”
“Servants. They say he’s turned his ballroom into a sort of . . . boxing equipment area.”
“You don’t appear surprised,” Nora noticed, peering carefully at Eva’s face. “Have you seen said ballroom?”
No, but I have seen him naked, she wanted to say. Saturday evening, in fact, when he pleasured her to within an inch of her life. They had stayed for hours at the Twenty-Fourth Street apartments, talking and touching between rounds of lovemaking. At the end, he’d been sweaty and wrung out, spread on the dark bedsheets like a marble statue come to life. They had lain there, in silence, the warm summer breeze blowing across their skin, and she’d been . . . content. It had been quite nice.
And in a few hours, they’d do it all over again.
A sizzle of anticipation went down her spine and settled in her toes. She forced her attention to the conversation at hand. “I have not been in the ballroom, though I have been inside his house.”
Nora’s gaze sharpened with disapproval and curiosity, but Kate and Anne whooped. “Please tell me it was his bedroom,” Kate said. “I am picturing dark cherry and deep greens.”
Anne smacked her cousin’s shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous. If she’d been in his bedroom it wouldn’t be to note the color scheme.”
Eva put the bedroom idea to rest. “I’ve only been on the main floor, the entryway and his office specifically.”
“That’s a shame,” Kate muttered. “I was hoping the rumors about him and Miss Hall were false.”
“The rumors of a match, you mean?” Eva had no intention of breaking Phillip’s trust by speaking the truth, revealing that he and Miss Hall were merely friends, but she was curious what the gossips were saying.
“Yes. They say he’s going to offer for her.”
Not likely.
“How lovely for them,” Nora said dryly, the tone flat and insincere. “Do any of you know the story behind his first engagement?”
Eva jerked slightly. How had Nora learned of this? She hadn’t been in New York long enough to hear old scandals . . . unless she’d been purposely digging. She shot her friend a questioning glance, but Nora merely raised one haughty brow. It was her smug I’m-up-to-something look.
“Oh! Goodness, yes. I daresay that’s one they still whisper about.” Anne noticed the blank stares from Nora and Eva, and leaned in eagerly. “Of course you haven’t heard it, so allow me. He was not yet twenty, I think. Met a girl near his college, a Boston blue blood. Miss Caroline Kerry. They say she was a scheming social climber but incredibly beautiful. She’d already turned down two proposals, so Mansfield knew he’d have to pursue her hard to win her hand.”
“And pursue her he did,” Kate added with a nod. “Followed her everywhere both in Boston and New York. Sent her gifts. Chased away the other suitors. He never tried to hide his feelings or his intentions. Told everyone, ‘That is the girl I am going to marry.’”
“How . . .” Romantic. And unbelievable. That hardly sounded like the man Eva knew.
“Isn’t it?” Anne agreed with a dreamy sigh. “Her parents naturally pushed for the match—”
“Not hard to see why with Mansfield’s wealth and pedigree,” Nora said.
“Yes, but his mother was quite cool to the girl. No one thought Mrs. Mansfield would ever approve.”
“He wouldn’t have cared,” Eva said softly, her stomach twisted in knots. “He would’ve married her anyway.”
“Exactly,” Kate said. “So he proposes. Takes her on a picnic in Central Park, just the two of them—”
“I’ve heard it was on his yacht in Newport,” Anne corrected.
Nora waved her hand. “Doesn’t matter. Get on with it.”
“She accepts and they’re betrothed. Within days the match is touted as the wedding of the year. Boston society meets New York society. Mrs. Mansfield throws a lavish betrothal ball to celebrate.”
Kate and Anne paused and exchanged a glance, as if deciding who would share the rest of it. “And?” Eva said sharply.
Gaze sparkling, Kate continued. “Just as the wedding preparations are almost complete, her dress has to be refitted.”
“Well, that’s nothing unusual.” Nora lifted one shoulder. “My dress has already been altered three times and we’re several months away from my wedding.”
“No,” Anne said with a meaningful lift of her brows. “It had to be refitted.” She pointed to her abdomen.
Nora gasped. “Do you mean to say she was . . . increasing?”
Eva’s mind whirled as she tried to put all these pieces together. His fiancée had been with child? Where was said child now? He’d led her to believe—
“She was indeed. And would you care to guess as to the identity of the father?”
“Well, I assume it wasn’t Mansfield,” Nora said. “Otherwise the wedding would’ve proceeded.”
“Correct. The girl only accepted Mansfield’s proposal because she’d conceived a child with some butcher’s son. Fancied herself in love with the young man.”
Oh, no. Eva closed her eyes, sympathy swelling in her chest like a bubble. Poor Phillip. He would’ve hated the embarrassment above all else, the public blow to his pride. This was clearly what his mother had been referring to when she’d mentioned Phillip’s broken heart.
No wonder he shied away from marriage.
And why did that knowledge sadden her? She had no intentions of marrying, not after three failed attempts. While she knew she wasn’t truly cursed, perhaps fate had been telling her something with those failures. That perhaps she was meant for greater things than household accounts and hosting dinner parties. That she should focus on her career and passion in architecture instead.
A knock on the door interrupted them. The Cortland butler emerged with a silver tray carrying what appeared to be a cable. “I beg your pardon, but this telegram just arrived for your ladyship.”
He came to Eva’s side and held out the salver. “Me?” He nodded and she scooped up the message. The only cables she ever received were from her father’s secretary. Tearing it open, she paled as she read the words inside.
When she finished she could barely breathe. Could barely think. Cold fear had wrapped around her heart.
Nora clasped her hand. “Eva, what is it? You’re scaring me half to death.”
“My father,” she rasped. “He’s taken a hard fall and is bedridden. He—he may not live.”
“Oh, no. Eva, I’m so sorry.” Nora’s grip tightened on Eva’s hand. “What can I do?”
“I . . . I must pack. I need to return home.” She had to see him, needed to sit at his bedside. She started to rise, but Nora grabbed her arm to stop her.
“I think you should wait a day or so. Leaving immediately feels rash.”
Eva frowned, surprised at her friend’s comment. “Rash? What if he dies? I’ll never forgive myself for not being there.”
“The trip will take you three weeks, longer if you find yourself in bad weather. If he recovers in a day or two, there’s no turning back once you’re on the ship.”
She pressed a hand to her chest, hoping to alleviate the ache there. “But if he dies . . .”
“You still won’t make it in time.” Nora’s eyes were gentle. “Darling, I know this is upsetting but think what your father would want you to do. What did he always tell you?”
Eva swallowed. “The work comes first.”
“That’s correct. The work comes first. So wait a few days. Cable your staff as often as you like to keep abreast of his condition. The truth is, he won’t ever know if you are there with him or not—even if he is awake.”
Tears pooled in Eva’s eyes, a hot, stinging flood of emotion. Unfortunately, Nora was right. Her father’s memory had deserted him. Even if Nora were there, he wouldn’t recognize her. “But I will know,” she said, wiping the moisture from her cheeks.
“He’s too stubborn to die from a fall. He’s hardheaded, just like his daughter.” Nora rubbed Eva’s back in long, calming strokes. “Give it two days. If he’s the same, then book your passage home.”
“All right. I’ll wait. I hope this isn’t a mistake.”
“You’ll see. This will all work out.”
Eva wished she shared her friend’s confidence. If they were wrong, she’d never recover. Perhaps her father had been wrong all these years about his priorities because, right now, it did not seem like the work should come first.
The curtains to the private dining suite parted and in entered Mr. Ogden Doyle, the renowned Boston architect and designer. Phillip rose from the table and closed the distance between them, his hand outstretched. “Mr. Doyle, thank you for coming.”
Doyle, a lanky man in his early thirties, shook Phillip’s hand. “Mr. Mansfield. I appreciate the invitation.”
They settled in chairs and a waiter appeared to take drink orders, vermouth cocktail for Doyle and a whiskey for Phillip. “And please bring a bottle of champagne for our third guest.”
Doyle removed his gloves and tucked them in his coat. “Third guest?”
“My architect’s representative.”
“Ah. I had heard E. M. Hyde is your primary architect.”
Phillip couldn’t keep the smug smile from appearing. “Yes, I was fortunate enough to land him.”
“Especially before he became ill.”
“Indeed. He is expected to recover soon, however, and will join us here in New York.”
Lines of confusion dotted Doyle’s brow. “Oh. But I had heard his condition was—”
Eva burst into the room at that moment, a vision in an emerald green silk evening gown. Just the sight of her curves had Phillip’s blood heating. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her today, not after she canceled their Monday evening rendezvous. She’d begged off, saying she was unwell.
She looked exquisite tonight, however. Perhaps he’d have luck in convincing her to join him at the apartments after dinner. He quickly pushed the reaction aside. There would be time enough for that later.
Both men came to their feet. She hurried to the table, her gait purposeful yet feminine, a large case in her right hand.
“I apologize for my tardiness. There was a streetcar accident on Forty-Second Street.” She thrust her hand at Doyle. “I am Miss Ashford, his lordship’s secretary.”
Doyle froze for a brief second then quickly bowed over her hand. “How lovely to meet you, Miss Ashford.”
When Doyle released her, she gifted Phillip with a soft, heart-stopping smile. Something inside him turned over. “And good evening to you, Mr. Mansfield.”
He also bowed over her hand, kissing her gloved knuckles for good measure. “Miss Ashford. Thank you for joining us tonight.”
“Of course, though I am a little befuddled as to the purpose.”
“All in good time. Let’s enjoy our drinks and order dinner first.”
The waiter returned as they were discussing Boston, the people they shared in common. Doyle came from a good family there, his uncle a long-practicing architect in the Northeast. Phillip resolutely avoided any discussion of the Kerrys or their daughter—his former fiancée—Caroline. That business had long since ceased to be important to him.
A dinner order was placed and the staff gave them privacy. Phillip leaned back in his seat, ready to get to tonight’s purpose. “I was impressed by what you did inside the Back Bay Club, Doyle. I had the occasion to visit earlier this year.”
“Thank you. It was something a bit new for me.”
Eva interjected to ask, “What exactly did you do?”
Phillip liked that she was not shy about inserting herself into a conversation or asking questions. He let Doyle answer.
“They hired someone else to design the exterior, but allowed me to handle the interior. I had complete control over every detail, from the draperies, to the furniture, carpets, and paintings.”
Eva’s brows went up, and Phillip knew what she was thinking. With most projects, the interior was left to upholsterers, who believed the more furnishings used—which all had to be upholstered, naturally—the better. There was no eye for taste or continuity, just gewgaws every which way one turned.
“You have a talent for it,” Phillip added. “Which is why I wanted to meet with you. I’d like for you to design the interior of the new Mansfield Hotel.”
Doyle’s eyes rounded, his face going slack. “Your new Fifth Avenue hotel? I would be a fool to say no.”
“Even still, you should think it over. As you may have heard, I can be a difficult employer. I’m exacting and don’t care to be deceived or placated. This project is important to me for various reasons and I plan to be very involved.”
“Mr. Mansfield,” Eva said, gaining his attention. “Before Mr. Doyle provides an answer, I have a question. What of the rooms I’ve already earmarked with a certain design theme? Some cannot be altered.”
“For example?”
“Well, the ladies’ drawing room on the main floor. We agreed to recreate Marie Antoinette’s apartment.”
“How clever,” Doyle said, stroking his chin. “All round, with mirrored walls?”
“Exactly.” She leaned in, excitement fairly glowing on her face. “The ceiling will be inset and covered by a large fresco. I’ve already made inquiries into replicating the furniture.”
“Sounds as if you have a majority of the work planned out.” Doyle looked between Phillip and Eva, clearly wondering where he would fall in line.
“Not even close. You would, of course, consult with both Miss Ashford and E. M. Hyde about the space and any plans they had. But there’s much to be discussed outside those common areas, such as decisions on the rooms, from the most expensive suite right down to the cheapest single.”
Three waiters entered, their arms laden with china plates and bowls. The food was arranged in front of them, drinks refreshed, and then the waiters disappeared once again. Phillip nodded for Eva to begin, and she started on a plate of clams. He’d selected cream of artichoke soup, and Doyle had gone for the bisque of shrimp.
“I am intrigued,” Doyle said. “But I’ve only decorated a few homes and the Back Bay Club. Why me? You could hire almost anyone for this project.”
“You sell yourself short. You come highly recommended, and I’ve also seen the home in Newport you decorated. I believe you have an eye for this kind of thing. My hotel must have the right atmosphere, one unparalleled in this country. I want luxury but also want accessibility. Jaws should drop, but it shouldn’t cost so much that only a handful of people can afford it.”
“That is quite a lofty goal.”
“I realize as much, which is why I only hire the very best people. The ones who can accomplish the impossible.”
“Well, I’m no E. M. Hyde,” he said, dragging his soup spoon through the bisque. “Or even Miss Ashford, it seems.”
Eva flushed under the compliment. “You are too kind. And I suspect humble, as I know Mr. Mansfield’s standards.”
“When would I need to start?”
Phillip leaned back in his chair. Doyle would say yes, he could feel it. “As soon as you’re able. The foundation will be poured the week after next and then we’ll start framing the floors. Hyde will arrive in a few weeks or so, once he recovers. Having your input from the beginning will be critical.”
A familiar face appeared in the doorway. Phillip pushed back from the table and rose. “Miss Hall. Good evening.”
Becca’s eyes darted around the room, taking in the scene before her. “Good evening. I apologize for the interruption, but I wondered if I might have a moment to speak with you, Mr. Mansfield.”
He nodded and then turned to his dining companions. Eva had gone stiff, her gaze pointedly on her clams. She wasn’t upset over Becca’s arrival, was she? Eva knew there was no reason for jealousy. “If you’ll both excuse me, I’ll only be a moment.”
Doyle waved his hand in Eva’s direction. “No rush. This will give Miss Ashford and me time to get acquainted.”
Phillip didn’t care for the sound of that, but how could he complain? To the outside world, Eva was merely Hyde’s secretary and Phillip’s employee. Without further comment, he followed Becca into the corridor. Electric lights framed with glass sconces hung on the walls, throwing a soft yellow glow onto the patterned wallpaper. No one else was about, thankfully.
Becca was wringing her gloved hands. “I’m sorry. I had to warn you, and when I heard you were dining upstairs I came as quickly as I could.”
“I don’t mind. I’m with business associates.” He rolled his shoulders, suddenly uncomfortable with referring to Eva in those terms. Acting as if she were unimportant to him, as if he wasn’t burning to bury himself inside her once again.
“It’s my father,” Becca said, reclaiming his attention.
“Your father?”
“He’s growing anxious.” She motioned between the two of them. “About us. He plans to seek you out to determine your intentions.”
He winced. This had been the consequence he’d feared most. With him and Becca spending so much time together, her parents had every right to make assumptions about an imminent betrothal. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him there is nothing serious between us, that I do not wish to marry you. I’m afraid he’s heard it before, unfortunately. This time he doesn’t believe me, especially with all the rumors flying around the city.”
“Perhaps he’ll believe me.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“He cannot force us to marry, Becca. He has no leverage over me and I’m hardly a green lad. The worst is he tries to retaliate in some manner, but I doubt it. My family is too venerable to strong-arm.”
She mulled this over a moment. “He’s desperate to marry me off. I think . . . I think they suspect something between me and her.”
“I’ll deal with him if he approaches me. In the meantime, we should just continue to go about our business as usual—with a bit more circumspection.”
“As long as you’re prepared.” She ran a hand over her stomach, smoothing her gown. “I must find a way out of that house. Move someplace where no one knows my name.”
“I can assist you with that. Merely say the word.”
The lines in her forehead eased and she rose on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’re a good friend, Phillip. Thank you.”
“No thanks are necessary. Just keep it in mind if your situation becomes untenable. Now, hurry back to your table before they notice you’re missing.”