An Impossible Choice (All Things Possible Book 1) Page 14

  “Ahem,” Pendenny’s throat cleared as the man walked past them from his own office. Damon turned to glare at him, but the fellow simply returned the stare, his brows raised high above his spectacles. “I’m going upstairs to see what Mrs. Bowers has to eat. I trust you’ll be finished by the time I return?”

  Argel’s lips pulled into a grin and when the door slammed shut, she burst into laughter. “I’d say Titus is not a fan of our morning ritual,” she smirked.

  “I don’t care a fig what Pendenny thinks,” Damon grumbled as he perched himself on the side of his wife’s desk. Glancing down, he sighed. “I, erm, keep forgetting to repair your desk…when I damaged it…the other night.”

  His blood warmed as she peeked up at him from underneath dark lashes, before quickly turning her attention to the papers before her. “’Tis no trouble, only this one side here is…cratered. It doesn’t interfere with where I need to work.”

  “Well…” he wondered just how much time he had before Pendenny returned. Not enough, he finally decided. Never enough. “What do you say to luncheon out today? Before you go out with Miss Hughes. I was thinking about Rule’s. Mrs. Bowers won’t mind. I need to go across town anyway. It would be nice, just the two of us.”

  His wife looked up at him regretfully. “Wynny and I are going to the shops later this morning and then I promised her we would try Wilton’s for luncheon.” She bit her lip as if in thought before brightening, “What about an early dinner? I know she will wish to rest before we attend that comedy this evening. You and I could go out for a quick bite to eat…even just an ice at Gunter’s or a turn about the park.”

  Damon’s brow furrowed as he thought, “No, I’m afraid I’ll be meeting alone with Lord Sumpton at Almack’s this afternoon and I never know how long a meeting with him will go. I am afraid it is likely I won’t even be able to accompany you both to the comedy—though I know Pendenny won’t mind doing so.”

  “Not if Wynny is there,” Argel smiled sadly as the door opened and Pendenny himself walked back in.

  He must have also seen Miss Hughes while upstairs, because he was whistling now as he made his way to his own office.

  Damon slowly stood to do the same. “Well, then, until…later.” He hated how wistful his voice sounded to his own ears.

  “Until later,” she replied, the sad smile still in place.

  He stepped into his office, still not used to the changes Argel had made. Papers were filed away in books and folders—all labeled and stacked neatly on shelves, all in their place. Smiling to himself, Damon had to admit it was easier to work now. He never realized before just how overwhelmed the mess had made him feel.

  Much as how knowing Argel’s feelings for him now made him realize how glaringly empty his life had been up to this point.

  And still he was unable to do anything about it.

  A few hours passed before Damon heard Argel leave for her outing with Wynny. Not a minute later, Pendenny popped his head in. “I’m going up for some lunch. Want me to bring you back something?”

  “No, I’m not hungry,” Damon muttered, not looking up from his work until he realized Pendenny still stood in the doorway moments later.

  His friend peered at him closely before removing his spectacles and grabbing a seat across from Damon’s desk. Evidently his office was tidy enough now for even Pendenny’s presence. “Alright, out with it,” his associate demanded with crossed arms.

  “Out with…what?” Damon stared at the man, who despite his posture looked uncharacteristically relaxed. Pendenny’s usual brown coat was discarded, leaving only his matching waistcoat and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

  The man sighed, as if it should be obvious. “With whatever is responsible for your crestfallen countenance. You look terrible.”

  “No one can fault you for your honesty Pendenny,” Damon answered wryly.

  “You and the missus have a spat?” Pendenny’s brow quirked.

  “I’ve had no time with my wife for us to even have a spat! Not since Miss Hughes arrived, anyway.” Damon carelessly tossed a piece of paper on his desk.

  “But I thought you sent for Wyn—Miss Hughes yourself? Paid her travel?” Pendenny blinked as he reddened in the face.

  “I did,” Damon sighed, leaning back in his chair. “For Argel. I thought she would appreciate it, that it would further my plan to woo her, to gain her love.” His lips twisted into a wry smile as he looked to the opposite wall, focusing on nothing in particular. “But I didn’t even have to do it in the end—she told me she loved me already.”

  Pendenny leaned forward in his seat. “When?” he asked eagerly.

  “The night Miss Hughes arrived. Just before we came upstairs.” Damon looked at him pointedly. “And there the two of you were, just when Argel had told me she loved me after all. Just when—” He swiped his mouth.

  “When…what?” Pendenny’s eyes grew round.

  “Nothing. It doesn’t matter now.” Did Pendenny look disappointed? He’d never been interested in discussing either of their personal lives before. The man had shown more emotion these past three days than in all the years he had known him.

  When his friend made no reply, Damon continued in his own thoughts, not realizing he’d spoken them aloud until it was too late—“Somehow, I like to think she would have still married me of her own free will had things been…different.”

  “I suppose we’ll never know,” Pendenny replied softly, startling him.

  Immediately Damon bristled. His friend’s words did not settle well with him and he sought to steer the subject back on course. Gruffly, he muttered, “She had finally given herself to me completely, you know. Well, almost anyway.”

  “Almost?” Pendenny’s eyes widened again. “You mean, you’re telling me you haven’t…” He waved his hand in the air as if that was all the implication Damon needed to understand his meaning.

  “No,” Damon gritted out as he rubbed his forehead. “No thanks to you two. But,” he sat up, looking sharply at his friend, “you sound surprised. You do remember she wasn’t particularly enthused about my method of proposing marriage? Surely you don’t think I’m the kind of man who would force her to—”

  “No, no, nothing like that,” Pendenny quickly cut in, clearing his throat. “It’s just, the two of you, you’re so disgustingly affectionate.” He scrunched his face while tugging at his cravat.

  “Us?” Damon grinned. “What about you? You pant after Miss Hughes like a sick puppy! I’ve never seen someone so besotted!”

  “I do not!” Pendenny glared at him before calmly settling back in his seat. “I simply…am concerned for her well-being during her time here in London. That is all. She’s a gentle country girl, after all—not remotely my type.”

  “Oh, I know you have a type, Pendenny. Blonde, sweet, and raises chickens in Wales.”

  A notebook whizzed by Damon’s head just then and he barked out in laughter as Pendenny stormed out of his office, slamming the door shut.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “I’m famished! How about you?”

  “Exhausted is more like it,” Argel laughed as she slowly sat down. “I believe you have dragged me through every shop in St. James, Wynny.”

  At last, they’d arrived for quite a late luncheon at Wilton’s. Argel couldn’t help but notice the transformation in her friend in just a few short days. Gone was the nervous, superstitious girl she had grown up with in Beddgelert. London, it seemed, agreed with Wynny quite well.

  “I never want to leave London, Argel! How can I possibly go back to boring, old Beddgelert now?”

  Argel smirked over her menu at her friend. “You’ll have no choice when you have spent all my money. Really, Wynny, three hats?”

  Her friend flushed, “I’m sorry, Argel. I’ll pay you back…eventually.”

  Argel waved a dismissive hand, “’Tis nothing, Wynny. I want you to have a good time and enjoy your visit.” Sh
e gave Wynny a smile before returning her attention to the menu before her. “Funny, I always longed to leave Beddgelert, but now that I have, I find I miss it.”

  “Well! I never thought I’d hear Argel Phillips say those words,” Wynny laughed.

  “It’s Westmoreland now, remember?” Argel smiled as she set her menu down. “And, well, it’s true. Just a quieter place in general, really. I find London to be rather busy. Too much for my taste anyway. Constant interruptions…” She shook her head. “Regardless, I’m looking forward to returning to Abingdon-on-Thames once Damon’s business is concluded here. It has a different beauty from Beddgelert, to be sure, but I know it will be a lovely home.”

  Wynny’s brow shot up at the remark. “You seem much more accepting of your marriage now than you did when you left Wales. Was I right? Did you fall in love after all?”

  Wynny always had a way of getting right to the heart of a matter, often to Argel’s chagrin. This time was no different.

  Argel picked at the white tablecloth, not saying anything for a moment.

  “Argel?”

  She looked up to find Wynny waiting expectantly, a vision of patience dressed in lilac. “Yes,” she smiled softly. “I fell in love.”

  “Ohhh! I knew it! I just knew it!” Wynny squealed in excitement. “The way you felt about him before all that horrid mess with your uncle, I knew it wouldn’t disappear completely.”

  “Yes, well,” Argel felt her face warming. She needed to change the subject. “Speaking of my uncle, I know I haven’t spoken of him since, but…how is he? Is he well?”

  “Haven’t you written him?” Wynny looked at her in surprise.

  “No,” Argel looked down, ashamed. “I was so hurt, he gave me up so easily, lied to me my entire life, but…”

  “He’s well, Argel.” Wynny reached across the table for Argel’s hand. “Don’t fret. He’s stayed put since you left. Even took on more work, helping Benson with his farm while the man is gone visiting his poor aunt. Did I mention he has another pig? Davies, I mean.”

  “No!” Argel laughed, grateful for the distraction.

  “He did! Keeps it inside like a pet dog, just like the last one. Funny man.”

  “Indeed. Not a kinder man to all creatures than Davies…” Argel’s voice trailed off as her mind came back around to the source of her problems. “I suppose…I should eventually write to Uncle. It hardly seems fair to continue to hold a marriage against him that I now want.”

  “Well, I am sure he would like that. I know I would have. I still can’t believe you never wrote to me! After you promised and everything!” The look on Wynny’s face now matched her accusatory tone.

  “But Wynny,” Argel paused as a waiter brought their drinks. As soon as he turned and left, she continued, “I did write to you. Not until we reached London, mind you, but I did.”

  “Well, that makes me feel some better. I suppose mail gets lost quite easily. Odd, though, that I never received yours, but I did Damon’s.”

  “Well, you’re here now, that’s all that matters,” Argel smiled.

  “Yes, and glad of it! You know,” a mischievous grin stretched across Wynny’s face, “as much time as we’ve spent together these past couple of days, we’ve yet to discuss the topics I wanted most for you to write to me about.”

  “Oh?” Argel shifted in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable.

  “Yes. And you know very well which ones—marriage, love. You just admitted you do love him. Is marriage everything you hoped for? Oh, do tell me everything!”

  “It’s…Damon…” What could she say? “He’s wonderful, yes. Kind, loving, considerate.”

  “Kind, loving, considerate,” Wynny parroted with a scrunched nose. “You know what I mean, Argel.” Wynny glanced both ways before leaning in to whisper. “I mean things. I want to know what it is like. Is it absolutely wonderful?”

  “Wynny Hughes! I—” Argel laughed, speechless, and red as the plate of strawberries on the next table.

  “So? Why aren’t you saying anything Argel? I’m just dying to know!” Wynny pleaded.

  Oh, this was humiliating, but Argel knew her friend would never let it rest. “If you’d received my letters you’d already know—”

  “You wrote it down?” Wynny’s eyes grew round. “And now they’re lost, being read by who knows what sordid person.”

  “Wynny!” Argel whispered sharply. “You asked me to write about it, remember? Besides, if you’d read them…you’d know there was nothing to tell,” Argel finished quietly.

  “You mean it isn’t wonderful? How…disappointing,” Wynny pouted.

  Argel shook her head. “No. I mean…I wouldn’t know.”

  Her face filled with heat as Wynny blinked at her, obviously not comprehending, until— “Ohhh. You mean, you haven’t…he hasn’t…at all?”

  Argel looked down at the table, shaking her head.

  “But, you both act so in love—the way he looks at you,” she sighed, “like he wants to kiss you senseless. He always seems rather ill with the world, all except for you.”

  Argel studied the fading pattern in the table cloth. “He wanted to give me time to-to want a real marriage and…everything. All on my own. I finally realized I truly loved him only this week.”

  “So, you must tell him!” Wynny insisted.

  “I did,” Argel replied softly, keeping her head down.

  “And?”

  Argel finally looked up at her friend. “It was just before we walked in to find you had arrived. You and Titus.”

  “Oh…” Wynny sat back looking troubled. “Oh, dear!” She bit her bottom lip. “And I’ve kept you so busy, keeping you up late talking every night—away from him. I-I must leave—right away, then!”

  “No, Wynny, don’t be silly.” Argel shook her head. “It was rather poor timing, I’ll admit, but we are maried. We have the rest of our lives to spend together. What’s a few more days?” She smiled weakly.

  “Well—” Wynny’s hesitation gave way to bursting curiosity. “But you do love him? Truly?”

  “Yes, I do. I know now that even if things had been changed, had transpired differently, I still would have chosen Damon. I would have gladly married him.”

  “Oh,” Wynny sighed just as the waiter returned, “that is so romantic!”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “Argel,” Damon whispered as he poked his head into the parlor. Miss Hughes was sprawled out on the olive green scroll end sofa fast asleep and his wife was curled up in an armchair near the fireplace. It appeared she, too, was partaking of an afternoon nap in the beige wing chair. Her needlework hung limply in one hand.

  “Argel! Pssst,” he tried again, glancing to make sure he didn’t wake her friend.

  “Mmm, what is it?” Argel stretched, her voice groggy with sleep.

  “Shhh, Argel. Here,” he gestured with his hand. “Come quick!” He did not have long before he needed to return to work, but what he had to tell her could not wait.

  Slowly, she stood and crossed the room. “Damon,” Argel laughed before a yawn interrupted. “What do you want?” She rubbed her eyes and Damon noticed a few brown curls had fallen out of place.

  She looked positively tempting.

  He clinched his fists as he thought about exactly what he wanted. Though he said nothing of these thoughts, his face must have betrayed him. He watched Argel as red began creeping up her neck from under her fichu upon realizing just what he took her words to mean. However…it was still not the time nor place—not with Miss Hughes around—and that thought brought him back to the reason he was here. “We did it! We closed the deal with Lord Sumpton!”

  “Oh, Damon, how wonderful!” Argel clasped his hands, her excitement for him making him feel that he could go out and close ten more just as difficult as this one. “I suppose your late meeting the other evening paid off.”

  “Yes, and as much as I hated not attending that comedy with you, closing this
deal means we can go home now. It was what brought us to London in the first place.”

  “Oh what news!” Argel sighed. “I am ever so glad—I find London to be quite exhausting,” his wife smirked.

  Her whispered words were music to his ears. “Well, then, why don’t we leave—right away? I must run down to the office, finalize some paperwork, dot some i’s…but we could leave as soon as—”

  “But Damon, what about Wynny?” Argel whispered, looking over her shoulder.

  Damon frowned. Oh, yes. He had forgotten. Miss Hughes. “She can come too, of course.” Suddenly, an idea occurred to him and he brightened, “Why don’t we leave first thing in the morning, just the two of us. We can say…something came up at home—yes, that’s it—and I need to return right away. I can have Pendenny escort Miss Hughes later, along with Mrs. Bowers and Jackson, of course.” He paused as he drew Argel to him. “It will be just the two of us—alone—for a few hours, anyway. My Mrs. Westmoreland…” He lowered his head, claiming his wife’s lips in a kiss—just as he desired to do every time he simply stood in the same vicinity as her.

  “When do we leave?” Argel breathed as she leaned back to look up at him.

  She looked so beautiful to him there, her lips red and eyes dazed. His heart sped up. “We shall leave—”

  “Right away.”

  Damon felt Argel jump in his arms and his head shot up to see Miss Hughes standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and face stern.

  His wife squeaked, “Wynny! We woke you—”

  Miss Hughes raised a hand, demanding silence. “Argel, listen to me. I have decided London life suits me far better than it does you and I am not ready to depart just yet. You and that husband of yours, on the other hand, should leave tonight, as soon as he returns. I will follow with Mrs. Bowers and Jackson in a day or two.”

  “But, Wynny, I can’t just leave you here alone.”

  Of course they could. Damon was liking this plan of Miss Hughes’s immensely.

  “I will not hear another word,” Miss Hughes again held up her hand, silencing his wife. “This is what I want. I could use some time to myself, and this one here,” she nodded in Damon’s direction, “nearly sets my teeth to chatter the way he practically trembles anytime you are in the same room together. Why, he’s worse than Davies’s sheep that time it got frightened by the rushing Colwyn after the snow melted last spring.”