Read Online Full Steam Ahead by Karen Witemeyer - Free Book Online
Authors: Karen Witemeyer
Ads: Link
thinking. What difference did a few whiskers or wrinkles make when people were dying? Nevertheless, he took a few seconds to shove his shirttails into his trousers.
“Your applicant, Mr. Thornton,” Wellborn’s ponderous voice echoed through the chamber. “Miss Nicole Greyson.”
Miss? Darius spun around to find a young woman stepping forward as his butler backed out of the room. Her wine-red dress was the height of fashion, sloping over her slender shoulders in a deep V and nipping in at her tiny waist before belling out to the floor. The straw bonnet she wore framed her face in a perfect oval, showing off rich brown curls and a smile that projected confidence mixed with confusion as her golden brown eyes scanned his appearance.
She was quite the loveliest creature he’d ever seen. And the worst possible applicant he could have imagined.
Chapter 6
N icole needed a moment to recover from the shock of seeing her future employer in a state of dishabille . Shirt sleeves rolled up over muscular forearms, collar open at his throat, eyes red rimmed, dark whiskers lining his square jaw, blond hair tousled as if he’d lost his only comb.
Maybe he really was a madman. Thank goodness she’d continued with the false surname. She’d decided to drop Juliet’s name in favor of her own since Oakhaven was rather remote, and if the postmaster was to be believed, townsfolk avoided it as much as possible. Yet caution demanded she maintain a measure of anonymity. Was lying about half a name less of a sin than lying about the whole thing?
“Miss Greyson.” The man offered her a courtly bow, one that would have been right at home in any Boston drawing room.
Perhaps he was just slovenly, not actually mad. She could deal with slovenly. Especially since he appeared to be familiar with bath water. No stench wafted toward her as he made his bow.
“Mr. Thornton.” Nicole dipped her head and offered him a smile. “I understand you’re in need of a secretary. I’m here to offer my services.”
“Well, I’m afraid your services aren’t exactly what I had in mind.” He eyed her clothing as if it told him all he needed to know about her. “I’m sorry you came all this way, but I am not looking for someone to help me pen fancy invitations and polite correspondence. You’ll be of no use to me.” He waved her toward the door. “I’ll have my man compensate you for your time.”
His out-of-hand dismissal raised Nicole’s hackles. How dare he assume he knew her capabilities simply because she’d worn a stylish dress? Was it a crime to want to look her best for this interview?
“Perhaps if I’d arrived donned in a pair of trousers, with my hair in a tangled mess—a style you apparently prefer—you’d have shown me the courtesy of granting an interview before sending me away.”
His gaze shot to hers at her scathing tone. His brows arched in surprise, then turned downward in displeasure. “Time is my most precious commodity, Miss Greyson. I refuse to waste it.” He stepped closer, and Nicole fought the urge to back away. “I know your type. Well-educated in literature, art, and . . . embroidery. You have lovely penmanship and a high opinion of yourself but no real skill in the things that matter to me. Science, mathematics, mechanics. Besides, you are far too young and much too pretty to work for a man in close company.”
This last statement threw a chunk of ice into her rapidly boiling temper. He thought her pretty. Then she remembered he also thought her worthless in all areas that mattered to him. The simmer heated again.
Nicole lifted her chin and stepped so close to him, her skirts brushed his shoes. “I’ll have you know, Mr. Thornton, that I am well versed in mathematics, including algebra and Euclidian geometry. My father never had a son, to his great regret, so he passed his business acumen on to me. Instead of reading novels as a girl, I read shipping manifests and accounting ledgers. I will admit to
“Your applicant, Mr. Thornton,” Wellborn’s ponderous voice echoed through the chamber. “Miss Nicole Greyson.”
Miss? Darius spun around to find a young woman stepping forward as his butler backed out of the room. Her wine-red dress was the height of fashion, sloping over her slender shoulders in a deep V and nipping in at her tiny waist before belling out to the floor. The straw bonnet she wore framed her face in a perfect oval, showing off rich brown curls and a smile that projected confidence mixed with confusion as her golden brown eyes scanned his appearance.
She was quite the loveliest creature he’d ever seen. And the worst possible applicant he could have imagined.
Chapter 6
N icole needed a moment to recover from the shock of seeing her future employer in a state of dishabille . Shirt sleeves rolled up over muscular forearms, collar open at his throat, eyes red rimmed, dark whiskers lining his square jaw, blond hair tousled as if he’d lost his only comb.
Maybe he really was a madman. Thank goodness she’d continued with the false surname. She’d decided to drop Juliet’s name in favor of her own since Oakhaven was rather remote, and if the postmaster was to be believed, townsfolk avoided it as much as possible. Yet caution demanded she maintain a measure of anonymity. Was lying about half a name less of a sin than lying about the whole thing?
“Miss Greyson.” The man offered her a courtly bow, one that would have been right at home in any Boston drawing room.
Perhaps he was just slovenly, not actually mad. She could deal with slovenly. Especially since he appeared to be familiar with bath water. No stench wafted toward her as he made his bow.
“Mr. Thornton.” Nicole dipped her head and offered him a smile. “I understand you’re in need of a secretary. I’m here to offer my services.”
“Well, I’m afraid your services aren’t exactly what I had in mind.” He eyed her clothing as if it told him all he needed to know about her. “I’m sorry you came all this way, but I am not looking for someone to help me pen fancy invitations and polite correspondence. You’ll be of no use to me.” He waved her toward the door. “I’ll have my man compensate you for your time.”
His out-of-hand dismissal raised Nicole’s hackles. How dare he assume he knew her capabilities simply because she’d worn a stylish dress? Was it a crime to want to look her best for this interview?
“Perhaps if I’d arrived donned in a pair of trousers, with my hair in a tangled mess—a style you apparently prefer—you’d have shown me the courtesy of granting an interview before sending me away.”
His gaze shot to hers at her scathing tone. His brows arched in surprise, then turned downward in displeasure. “Time is my most precious commodity, Miss Greyson. I refuse to waste it.” He stepped closer, and Nicole fought the urge to back away. “I know your type. Well-educated in literature, art, and . . . embroidery. You have lovely penmanship and a high opinion of yourself but no real skill in the things that matter to me. Science, mathematics, mechanics. Besides, you are far too young and much too pretty to work for a man in close company.”
This last statement threw a chunk of ice into her rapidly boiling temper. He thought her pretty. Then she remembered he also thought her worthless in all areas that mattered to him. The simmer heated again.
Nicole lifted her chin and stepped so close to him, her skirts brushed his shoes. “I’ll have you know, Mr. Thornton, that I am well versed in mathematics, including algebra and Euclidian geometry. My father never had a son, to his great regret, so he passed his business acumen on to me. Instead of reading novels as a girl, I read shipping manifests and accounting ledgers. I will admit to
Similar Books
