She folded her hands in her lap. “I’d like to know what would make a man propose marriage.”
David rubbed his hand over his mouth to hide a smile. “Miss Watson, I’ve never proposed marriage before so I wouldn’t know how to answer that.”
Her frown returned and he was still smitten. “Well, I had guessed that. You’re unmarried which I find quite ridiculous. But, if you should one day consider it, what might prompt you to go down on bended knee? Theoretically, of course.”
David laughed. The conversation was simply too absurd. He’d been woken by an adorable virgin, fed, and now questioned about how he would acquire a theoretical future wife. Did Abigail not understand the danger she was in? Dowered or not, a man of lesser character would have tossed her over his shoulder and made her his already. Instead, she waited patiently with her hands folded in her lap. Perhaps she didn’t consider him a catch for marriage after all, and the growing attraction between them was all in his imagination. “First off, I’d want to know we had something in common.”
“Like a love of Brighton?” she asked.
He studied her. What could he and Abigail possibly have in common? There was eight years between them in age. He knew her to be generous to those she could help, loyal but occasionally untruthful. However, she’d appeared utterly contrite when he’d caught her the other night and given the impending eviction, he couldn’t hold snooping against her. “Hmm, not so much the attractions of Brighton alone, more the style of living that would come with being married to me.”
Could she bear to leave Brighton and all her friends behind if they had to marry? Would she really be miserable in London as his wife?
Her head bobbed enthusiastically. “That shouldn’t be a problem. Peter is an amiable man. What else?”
“I’d have to like the woman.”
Her chin dipped and she raised a fingertip to her mouth. “Can you make someone like you even when they didn’t to begin with?”
David regarded her warily. Abigail had always held a special place in his heart. He’d never had a sister and he’d watched her grow with a certain kind of pride. However, his feelings for her now were certainly not brotherly. Did she realize that? “It happens all the time, of course. Sometimes people pretend affection to obtain the alliance, but the problem with that is they never know the real you and often don’t enjoy the later discovery. Miss Watson, are you trying to pair your brother with a woman who does not care for him? You will do him no favors if you are.”
“She could come to love him,” she declared boldly.
Her sweet face held so much hope that he wanted to reassure her instantly. But he disliked giving anyone false hope. What she wanted might not be possible. “Miss Watson, you cannot force love and attraction. It simply is there, or it’s not.” After all, what had sprung up between them had caught him by surprise—proof that his own words held more than a grain of truth.
A harsh knock sounded on the door and Abigail gasped. “Someone is here.”
“Obviously,” David murmured. He stood, caught her hand and pulled her
from the sofa. “You need to hide. Quietly now, lets not make too much sound and see if your reputation can be salvaged.”
She clutched his hand tightly. Her warm brown gaze rose to his and his breath caught. “But we haven’t finished talking,” she whispered.
Her grip changed, and she stroked his thumb with hers. David stared at her, feeling altogether besieged by stirrings he shouldn’t acknowledge. “Miss Watson, are you here to ask my help to find Peter a wife, or were you hoping to secure a rich husband for yourself by any means—even compromise?”
Abigail had the grace to blush. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Yet she still didn’t release him.
He tugged until their hands parted. “But here you are, unchaperoned, in a bachelor’s household with no apparent intentions of leaving. It appears very odd to say you are not looking to be wed when your actions suggest you are.”
“I’ll hide. We can talk another time,” she murmured, and then hurried down the hall.
Although he regretted what he had to do, David steered her toward the hall closet far away from the front door. Abigail wrinkled her nose, but then she looked up and quickly brushed her fingers through his hair. Her touch was soft and stirred him beyond words.
“It’s still a bit messy from your long sleep,” she whispered.
Her bare fingers brushed his ear, and then his jaw as she caressed him. The urge to kiss her rose again.
David quickly shut the door in her face. What was he going to do with her? She couldn’t go five minutes without shocking the hell out of him and he was on the verge of doing something extremely wrong. He raked his fingers through his hair to finish her work as he approached the door.
A quick glance through the peep hole showed Peter Watson standing on the top step. Of all the rotten luck. He couldn’t risk inviting Peter into the house in case Abigail revealed herself accidentally. The discussion about the debt would have to wait yet again. David glanced over his shoulder to make sure Abigail remained hidden before he opened his front door. “Mr. Watson, what a surprise.”
Peter frowned, glancing past David’s shoulder. “Is this a bad time?”
The worst in living memory. David set the tip of his boot behind the door just in case he was dealing with an angry brother who knew his sister was as good as ruined and planned to barge in and throttle him. “Actually, it is.”
“Ah. Well. Here.” Watson thrust an envelope at him. “My sister suggested we invite you to dine tomorrow night.”