“I had some business to take care of with Watson. Since he had guests, that business is still outstanding and preys on my mind today, not the kiss with Miss Watson. I have no designs on his sister. None at all.”
It was only half true. He might think about the sweetness of her lips, but he wouldn’t act on those thoughts. Yet, it did feel very good to confide in someone he could trust not to spread harmful gossip about Miss Watson.
Val chuckled and broke the comfortable silence. “So, is she the first of the young ladies to throw herself at you? They’re all on the hunt for a husband now and think we’re easy targets for practicing upon. You’ll grow used to it by the end of the week and learn to move quicker unless you wish to be trapped. Were you really surprised?”
He drew in a deep breath as his tension dissipated. He wasn’t the only one to stumble into such a situation and come out utterly befuddled by the experience. “Could have knocked me down with a feather.”
“It shouldn’t have. They’re all testing their wings these days so be careful. You’re wealthy, not too bad looking, and probably considered quite a catch.”
David punched Val’s arm.
“All joking aside, even Miss Radley is fluttering her lashes at the oddest moments,” Val continued. “Once, she did it so often I thought she had a spec of dirt in her eye and asked her if she required aid. The look I got could have made me a eunuch. But out of all the fellows in Brighton, you’re possibly the one man Miss Watson is most comfortable around so be cautious of her unless you wish for a shackle about your leg.”
A warm glow built in David’s chest but he quickly repressed the sensation. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m too old for her.”
“You were always coming to her rescue when she was small.” Val chuckled. “Remember the time she followed us to the seashore one morning? Everyone except you had their trousers about their knees or off before we realized she’d watched us disrobe.”
“Please don’t remind me.” David covered his face at the memory. “Her questions on the way home burned my ears. I have always hoped she wouldn’t remember seeing your skinny backside disappearing into the waves.”
Valentine punched his arm. “Well, she’s seen all of us and not done a thing about it. There is just your backside to satisfy her curiosity about.”
“That isn’t likely to happen.”
Valentine stopped suddenly. “Do you know how many proposals of marriage she’s turned down? Three. She’s getting a reputation for breaking hearts.”
David’s mind grasped onto the idea. A speedy marriage for Miss Watson would solve one half of the problem. She’d be spared the pain of eviction and have a home of her own to go to. “Why did she refuse her suitors?”
“Who knows why women do anything. What I thought were perfectly sane, intelligent young ladies two years ago have turned into simpering and fluttering creatures while our backs were turned.” Val shuddered. “I warn you, Brighton has become a dangerous playground for the unwary gentleman.”
“Miss Watson doesn’t simper or flutter. She’s rather direct actually.” David’s face heated. His defense of her indicated he had given Abigail considerable thought. He avoided meeting Val’s gaze. “She mentioned overdressed young men in London with a great deal of distain. I am surprised to find her unattached after her time in London. She should have done well.”
Val glanced at his clothing and grinned. “If she has no care for fashion then perhaps I might just prove good enough to be acceptable, even with my skinny backside.”
David regarded his friend, a sense of discomfort prickling along his spine. Valentine would be considered a good catch, not wealthy but well off, only somewhat eccentric with his nightly stargazing habits. It was probably time he considered taking a wife.
They stopped in front of Valentine’s home. If David could encourage a match between Valentine and Miss Watson then he might not feel so dispirited about what he had to do. However, he wouldn’t like to force two people together when there was an inequality of feeling. “A man should never propose unless he means to change his life, but Miss Watson is sensible and could be good for you. She’d be worth the expense.”
“So says the banker,” Valentine intoned. “I am amazed such sentimentality and romantic notions run through your head.”
David rolled his eyes. “You may laugh at me now, but I’ve had my share of gentlemen clients bitterly complain about the expense of family, and particularly wives who married them for position and money rather than affection. Romantic or not, marriage is not a decision to rush into.”
“The expense of a wife shouldn’t be a problem for you then, would it? You may be as romantic as you please and choose from any number of lovely ladies. However, your situation is unique. You have no family to appease when making the decision on who to wed.” Valentine sighed dramatically. “I must gain approval from three women before even contemplating such a decision. It must be nice to come and go at your leisure without having someone to answer to if you are tardy, messy or absent altogether. I’m not keen to add another lady to my household.”
“Neither am I,” David said but as he spoke he acknowledged to himself that he wasn’t being entirely truthful.
Valentine glanced sideways at him. “Your business is doing well, I trust?”
“Yes, business is booming. A family would never understand the demands of my work,” he muttered the last softly. In a sense, it was good he had not married. If he had, he’d likely endure years of discord because of his devotion to work.
“Well, you shan’t ever know for sure until you have a family of your own,” Valentine warned sagely. Valentine said his goodbyes, reminding him of the Radley dinner tonight, and David walked up the street alone. He glanced at
the Watson’s front window as he passed by. The curtain twitched, and his pulse tripled. Yet he did not want to give Miss Watson further encouragement so he hurried to his own door and closed it swiftly behind him. He would keep a greater distance from Miss Watson, deal only with her brother from now on, and ensure he was never in a position to kiss her again.
He climbed the stairs for his bedchamber in order to wash and change for the day. Once there, he peeled his clothes from his body and sat on the edge of the bed. Bone deep tiredness tugged at his limbs and his eyes stung. He rubbed at them impatiently. He had much to do and couldn’t indulge in the luxury of returning to slumber, but the soft familiar feather bed cradled him with such comfort that he rolled onto his side and pulled the covers over his head.
CHAPTER SIX
Abigail allowed the parlor curtain to fall back into place with a heavy sigh as night descended on another perfect Brighton day. David Hawke had not reappeared since this morning. His front door remained stubbornly closed despite her wish to see him and have the notice calling in the debt delivered to Peter.