Read Online Betina Krahn by Make Me Yours (v5.0) - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Make Me Yours (v5.0)
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shop-girl contingent,” Jack muttered as he held the door for Mariah.
“A woman could do worse than a man who is polite to people of all stations.” She shot him a look as she stepped onto the street.
Thomas Bickering’s name had just been added to the sign hanging above the pavement, painted onto a board tacked below the names of the other partners. Mariah’s pulse picked up as she stared at the change. At least Mr. Bickering was clever enough to advance in his chosen career.
The lobby of the firm’s offices gave an impression of solidity and worth…wooden paneling, large windows and comfortable leather chairs in a waiting area set off from the clerks’ desks by a heavy railing. The young man at the desk in the reception area confirmed that Thomas Bickering was indeed a member of the firm and was at that moment on the premises.
Mariah gave him her sunniest smile.
“We have it on the best authority—the Earl of Chester—that Mr. Bickering is a very capable solicitor. We’ve had something of a journey and are anxious to meet with him.” When the clerk looked doubtful, she handed him their calling cards. “Surely he can find a few minutes in his schedule for us. The work must be started today if it is to be finished in time for the wedding.” She glanced at Jack, who looked as if he were biting his tongue.
“I’ll see if Mr. Bickering has some time to give you.” The clerk looked from her to Jack and then down at their names.“And may I offer sincerest congratulations. Matrimony seems to be in the air these days.”
As the fellow strode off, Jack leaned closer with a glower.
“You know, you’ve made him think we’re —” He cut off that alarming thought. “Do you always play so fast and loose with the truth?”
“I prefer to think of it as creative use of the facts,” she countered in an emphatic sotto voce. “I can hardly barge in, demand an accounting of his personal life and then tell him he’s been instructed to marry me.” She looked up with a taunting smile. “That’s your job.”
The clerk returned to usher them down a hallway with: “You’re in luck. Mr. Bickering has a most important engagement this afternoon, but he has agreed to see you for a few moments.”
Mariah held her breath as she entered her potential husband’s office.
Thomas Bickering was a man in his thirties, moderately tall and of medium build, with brown, prematurely graying hair. He looked a bit frazzled, sitting behind a large desk in an office full of crates, boxes and half-filled bookshelves. His new office, no doubt. As he rose to greet them she assessed his face—pleasant, if a little ordinary; his eyes—clear and watchful; and his handshake—firm and businesslike. He invited them to be seated in the chairs the clerk scurried to pull from under stacks of papers.
“Well, Miss Eller—” He tugged his cuffs self-consciously.
“It’s Mrs. Eller,” Mariah said sweetly. “I’m a widow.”
“Oh.” Flustered slightly, he cast about on his chaotic desktop for paper and a pen. “Well, then, this makes more sense. A second marriage. Property involved, is there?”
“I knew the earl wouldn’t steer us wrong,” Mariah said, putting a hand on Jack’s sleeve. “You see how quickly he’s assessed the situation?”
“And you—” he consulted Jack’s card for his name “—Mr. St. Lawrence. Have you been married before?”
“I have not, b-but—”
“Mr. St. Lawrence has numerous properties and family to whom he has made certain promises,” she inserted. “We felt it only prudent to discuss the situation with someone knowledgeable and seek professional advice.”
“A wise course of action,” Bickering said, smiling with fresh warmth at Mariah. He had a nice smile; his countenance became quite attractive when it appeared. She experienced a quiver of feminine interest. “If only more people would be so rational upon entering into marriage. It is, after all, a solemn responsibility
“A woman could do worse than a man who is polite to people of all stations.” She shot him a look as she stepped onto the street.
Thomas Bickering’s name had just been added to the sign hanging above the pavement, painted onto a board tacked below the names of the other partners. Mariah’s pulse picked up as she stared at the change. At least Mr. Bickering was clever enough to advance in his chosen career.
The lobby of the firm’s offices gave an impression of solidity and worth…wooden paneling, large windows and comfortable leather chairs in a waiting area set off from the clerks’ desks by a heavy railing. The young man at the desk in the reception area confirmed that Thomas Bickering was indeed a member of the firm and was at that moment on the premises.
Mariah gave him her sunniest smile.
“We have it on the best authority—the Earl of Chester—that Mr. Bickering is a very capable solicitor. We’ve had something of a journey and are anxious to meet with him.” When the clerk looked doubtful, she handed him their calling cards. “Surely he can find a few minutes in his schedule for us. The work must be started today if it is to be finished in time for the wedding.” She glanced at Jack, who looked as if he were biting his tongue.
“I’ll see if Mr. Bickering has some time to give you.” The clerk looked from her to Jack and then down at their names.“And may I offer sincerest congratulations. Matrimony seems to be in the air these days.”
As the fellow strode off, Jack leaned closer with a glower.
“You know, you’ve made him think we’re —” He cut off that alarming thought. “Do you always play so fast and loose with the truth?”
“I prefer to think of it as creative use of the facts,” she countered in an emphatic sotto voce. “I can hardly barge in, demand an accounting of his personal life and then tell him he’s been instructed to marry me.” She looked up with a taunting smile. “That’s your job.”
The clerk returned to usher them down a hallway with: “You’re in luck. Mr. Bickering has a most important engagement this afternoon, but he has agreed to see you for a few moments.”
Mariah held her breath as she entered her potential husband’s office.
Thomas Bickering was a man in his thirties, moderately tall and of medium build, with brown, prematurely graying hair. He looked a bit frazzled, sitting behind a large desk in an office full of crates, boxes and half-filled bookshelves. His new office, no doubt. As he rose to greet them she assessed his face—pleasant, if a little ordinary; his eyes—clear and watchful; and his handshake—firm and businesslike. He invited them to be seated in the chairs the clerk scurried to pull from under stacks of papers.
“Well, Miss Eller—” He tugged his cuffs self-consciously.
“It’s Mrs. Eller,” Mariah said sweetly. “I’m a widow.”
“Oh.” Flustered slightly, he cast about on his chaotic desktop for paper and a pen. “Well, then, this makes more sense. A second marriage. Property involved, is there?”
“I knew the earl wouldn’t steer us wrong,” Mariah said, putting a hand on Jack’s sleeve. “You see how quickly he’s assessed the situation?”
“And you—” he consulted Jack’s card for his name “—Mr. St. Lawrence. Have you been married before?”
“I have not, b-but—”
“Mr. St. Lawrence has numerous properties and family to whom he has made certain promises,” she inserted. “We felt it only prudent to discuss the situation with someone knowledgeable and seek professional advice.”
“A wise course of action,” Bickering said, smiling with fresh warmth at Mariah. He had a nice smile; his countenance became quite attractive when it appeared. She experienced a quiver of feminine interest. “If only more people would be so rational upon entering into marriage. It is, after all, a solemn responsibility
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