“Why would I think otherwise?” she asked, one fine eyebrow arched high. “It was your intention from when we first met, was it not? And all else aside,youhave been nothing but honest with me.”
She paused for a moment, her gaze on the floor as though she were deep in contemplation. “Jeffrey—”
But he held out a hand. He didn’t want her to say anymore to him, not until they reached their destination and he unveiled what was within.
“Bear with me for another moment,” he said. “Then we can have a candid discussion. All right?”
She nodded and then lapsed into silence, and for the next few minutes, the only sound to be heard was the clopping of the horse’s hooves and the rattle of the carriage wheels on the cobblestones beneath them.
* * *
She was behaving like a lackwit.Why could she not demand that he tell her where he was taking her, and why could she not force out the words of apology? It should be an easy conversation. Then he could simply turn around and take her home, and all would be forgotten. Or so she hoped.
It was torture sitting here across from him. She only had to move ever so slightly and their legs would rest against one another. Or if she leaned forward toward him, she could reach out a hand and touch him. She closed her eyes for a moment as even the thought of twining her fingers within his sent warmth running through her. Oh, how she missed him. She hadn't wanted to admit it, not even to herself. But if she couldn’t go two days without him, how was she to survive the rest of her life?
Perhaps she shouldn’t have come to this meeting after all. For then she wouldn’t have to go through this pain again of being so close and yet so far. She tried to calm herself by petting the dog, who was content to lie on the seat next to her, his head upon her lap. Thank goodness he was here to somewhat quiet her nerves.
She was jolted out of her reveries as the carriage began to cross a bridge, and she peered out the window at the Thames below, surprised to find that they were in Lambeth — what were they doing in this neighborhood of London? It wasn’t far from her own offices, true, but what purpose would Jeffrey have to bring her here? When she looked at him, her eyes wide in question, he simply smiled and motioned her out of the carriage.
She stepped out, finding nothing in front of her but a nondescript building. It looked as though it would be fairly large inside, and Jeffrey held out an arm to her, a gleam in his eye and a smile on his lips as she reluctantly took it, still silent. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask where they were and what they were doing here, but she knew he wouldn’t answer her question and she would find out soon enough. At the very least, she doubted he would be looking at her with such satisfaction if he were going to do something nefarious, would he?
Phoebe looked back and told Nancy she could remain with the carriage if she’d like — the day was warm, and Nancy looked as though she was enjoying herself with Jeffrey’s driver, as they were currently in the midst of an animated conversation. It was not as though Jeffrey was going to seduce her in the middle of what looked to be an abandoned warehouse, and besides, it was certainly too late for him to ruin her, was it not? Nancy smiled and nodded, and Phoebe turned to follow Jeffrey with some trepidation.
Jeffrey called to Maxwell to stay, but the dog had other ideas and was soon happily trotting along behind them.
The buildings to the right and left were warehouses of various sorts. Once looked to be a furniture manufacturer, and her suspicions were solidified by the sounds of men constructing within. The other side looked to be some kind of clothing manufacturer, and the building they were walking into was completely devoid of any clues as to what it might hold within. It was built of red brick, with a simple arched window in the front, offering a glimpse of nothing but darkness beyond.
Jeffrey procured a key from his pocket to open the door, and Phoebe looked up at him questioningly.
“Do you own this building?” she asked, to which he simply smiled but said nothing in confirmation. “Oh, you are maddening,” she muttered, and he chuckled slightly under his breath as he pulled open the door and ushered her in.
The front foyer was open but sparse, with exposed brick walls and a plain hearth in one corner, with nothing else of which to speak occupying the room. There was a small corridor at the end, and Jeffrey ushered her down toward it and through, then bypassed the doors to the left and right and opened the door at the end of the hallway.
“You are not meaning to kidnap me and keep me in this building as your captive, are you?” she asked, becoming more curious by the minute.
“That was not my plan, but now you have given me an idea,” he said with a wicked grin, and she couldn’t help the reluctant smile that played on her lips at that. He pushed open the door, and she stepped in, squinting in the dim light, trying to determine what lay before her. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness when she heard the scratching of Maxwell’s nails and the echo of Jeffrey’s boots on the floorboards behind her, and soon he was pulling back curtains to allow light into the room. She gasped when the sun flooded in, dust particles swirling in the air in front of her, but not distracting her from what lay before her.
“A press,” she whispered almost reverently, and she turned to Jeffrey, who was grinning broadly now, his hands behind his back as he watched her reaction.
“Your Mrs. Ellis told me upon my first visit toThe Women’s Weeklythat you had everything you needed for your paper but a printing press,” he said. “Well, now you have one.”
She could only gape at him in astonishment as she walked forward, running her hand along the machine. It was by no means new and had obviously done some work in its time, but it would do an admirable job, and was, apparently, hers — if she chose to accept it.
It was the most thoughtful gift he could have ever chosen for her. While most women would enjoy jewels or ballgowns in the latest style, for Phoebe, this meant more than any finery ever could.
“But …” she turned to him, confusion coursing through her, “Why?”
“That’s something of a long story,” he said, taking a hesitant step toward. “But first I must know — would you accept it? And in doing so, would you accept me?”