Page 119 of The Wallflower Takes All
“Apparently.”
“A reliable roof is not to be discounted.”
“No.”
“There are two bedchambers?”
“Yes.”
“And a garden?”
“A small one.”
“Then it will do.”
Her acceptance of the thing was too quick. It struck him like a door slamming shut in his face.
“It may do,” he said. “The climbing rose sounds a bit sad. I will continue to look.”
She glanced up. “Gabriel, we have three days.”
“I am aware.”
“Then we cannot become particular about windows, colors, or whether the climbing rose is withering.”
“The move need not be permanent,” he said, more to himself than to her.
“That remains to be seen, but we must have somewhere to go when Algernon takes our home.”
She was right, of course, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear how determined she sounded to leave London as soon as possible.
Gabriel stepped closer. “It need not be your whole future.”
Her gaze met his, and Poppy lowered the paper. “Thank you for finding it,” she said, completely ignoring his remark.
“I will make inquiries about other properties,” he insisted.
She planted her hand face-down on the desk and the inkpot shook. “You need not.”
“I will,” he replied in an equally sharp tone.
She stood up straight, crossed her arms over her chest, and narrowed her eyes on him. “Why?”
Because the thought of you in that dismal cottage feels like failure. Because I want to give you something better. Because I kissed you as if I could keep you, then brought you a list of rooms to which I must surrender you.
He said none of that. Instead, he said, “I will continue assisting with whatever course offers you the greatest security.”
There. That was sensible. Sensible. Proper. Cowardly.
Her expression changed to slight surprise. “Including the marriage contract?”
He swallowed. “When required, yes.”
Her brows lifted. “When?” she asked. “Not if?”
“There is still a chance.” He pressed his lips together.
“You still think I should find a husband,” she said.
