Page 48 of An Unfamiliar Duke

“Then you shall see them after dinner,” he said.

Marcus set their dessert plates on the table. Rosalind had never seen such perfectly fashioned orange puddings. They looked and smelled divine, but no orange pudding could compete with the opportunity to see Sebastian’s design. She lifted her spoon. The meal could not end soon enough.

Chapter 19

Sebastian withdrew the workshop key from the small pocket in his vest and slid it into the lock. Over the past year, he had shown his plans for a new bridge to several of his colleagues. Each of those gentlemen possessed a solid understanding of engineering principles, and they had all given his designs their approval. It made no sense, therefore, that the thought of showing the plans to Rosalind would cause him such anxiety. No sense at all.

He pushed open the door and waited for her to enter ahead of him. She hesitated, looked at him, and then crossed the threshold. He followed, moving past her to reach for the candlestick standing on the corner of the large table. He took it to the fireplace. The embers were still glowing, providing just enough fuel to light the candle in his hand. He touched the flame to another candle on the mantel and then added a piece of wood to the fire. Flames appeared, licking at the fresh log. He turned. Rosalind was still standing just inside the door, her gaze slowly traversing the room.

“It’s a rather unremarkable space,” he said.

“That is what makes it so extraordinary.” Her eyes met his, and he saw the wonder there. “If your workshop had housed as many books as the library or been as opulently decorated as the ballroom or the drawing room, it would not have the same feel at all.”

“The same feel?” Sebastian tensed. If Rosalind were to enter those unchartered, illogical female waters again, he was sunk.

“Yes.” Slowly, she approached the bookshelves and studied the model ship on the top. She reached out to gently touch the globe before turning back to face him. “Do you not sense it?”

Intuition told him to gather more data before answering. “Not many are so perceptive. Is there something in particular that is triggering that impression?”

She looked from the scientific texts on the shelf beside her to the scrolls of paper and mechanical instruments on the table. “The room’s uncluttered walls are like an open canvas for fresh ideas, yet the tools and insights developed by those who’ve made unique discoveries in the past are all here—yours to use for even greater things.”

Sebastian could only stare. What could he possibly add when she had articulated his own feelings about the workshop so perfectly?

She watched him, looking suddenly unsure. “I received my education at home, you understand. Perhaps this atmosphere is common enough in a university classroom. But it is something that I have never experienced before.”

“I have felt what you describe at various times and locations whilst working with some of the country’s brightest men. That you sense that same ambiance in this room is the highest of compliments.”

“It is undeniable.” She smiled. “And it makes me all the more eager to see your plans.”

His plans. Yes. That was the purpose of their presence here. Mentally shaking himself, he crossed to the shelves and removed a large scroll.

“This is the master,” he said, sliding some of Meikle’s papers to one side and unrolling his design on one corner of the table. “I sent a copy to Mr. Darby so that he can ascertain whether his ironworks is capable of casting the necessary pieces. If not, I will have to decide whether to modify the design or settle for a wooden structure.”

He set a candlestick on each end of the large sheet of paper to weigh it down and to provide sufficient light for Rosalind to see the detailed markings. She moved closer, leaning over the desk to study the design more carefully. Sebastian stood to one side, his hands clasped behind his back as he awaited her verdict. The seconds ticked by. She inched a little farther to the right, one finger following the lines of calculations he’d written beneath a drawing of the abutment.

“Incredible.” The whisper had scarcely passed her lips when she swung to face him. “Sebastian, this may well be the most amazing thing I have ever seen. That you did this . . .” She gestured to the paper. “All of this . . .” Her eyes shone, and she reached for his hands, not bothering to finish her thought. “I want to see it spanning the river on Finley Park land. I want to watch it being built and see the pieces coming together just like you’ve envisioned.”

Sebastian was quite sure that a ride in the Montgolfier brothers’ hot air balloon could not have produced a greater sensation of floating than he experienced at that moment. He’d been unaware of how much he desired Rosalind’s approval until she’d offered it. “Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “Your good opinion means a great deal.”

She cocked her head to one side, her beautiful brown eyes on his. “Does it?”

The candlelight flickered, and their silhouettes swayed across the floor. He pulled her nearer. “Yes,” he said softly. “It does.”

Her slightly parted lips curved upward. He ached to touch them, to kiss them. She was so close he could feel her warmth. And yet, he held back. What of her feelings?

“Sebastian.” Her voice was little more than a murmur. “You do not need a kissing gate.”

He released her hands to wrap his arms around her. Slowly and deliberately, he lowered his head. “Do I not?”

“No.” It was a breath. “You do not.”

His lips touched hers, and she leaned in. He tightened his hold on her, deepening the kiss until there was nothing and no one in his world but Rosalind.

In the fireplace, the log shifted and cracked. The sound filled the room. Sebastian raised his head in time to see the sparks spiraling up the chimney. Reluctantly, he relaxed his grip around Rosalind. She offered him a shy smile and stepped out of his embrace. Instantly, his arms felt empty.

“I think perhaps I should design a bridge every day,” he said.

Her light laughter filled him with hope. “There is no need to limit yourself to bridges.” She pointed at Meikle’s papers scattered over the other side of the table. “What is this that you are working on?”