Page 84 of A Convenient Fiction

“I know you aren’t. I’ve seen how you are with Teddy, and with Aunt Charlotte. Not to mention the fact that you risked your life to save mine. You’re no unfeeling brute. Not by a long chalk.” When he would have looked away from her, she lifted her hand to his cheek, gently compelling him to meet her eyes. “What is it you’re afraid of?” she asked softly. “Is it so unthinkable that you might have a life here?”

“Not unthinkable, no.” His voice went gruff. “It’s bloody terrifying.”

“Because you care for me?”

“If I didn’t, I’d have nothing to lose.”

Her heart twisted with sympathy for him. “I see.” She smoothed his hair from his brow. “In that case, you’re simply going to have to trust me.”

He bent his head to hers. “What about you? How can you trust me? How do you know I won’t squander your share of the business, and leave you no better off than you were before?” His gaze was troubled. “I don’t want to hurt you, Laura.”

“Then don’t.” She leaned against him. “I have faith in you.”

“You haven’t any reason to.”

“That’s what faith is, isn’t it?” She stroked his cheek. “Besides, you couldn’t be any worse than Mr. Weatherwax.”

Alex huffed a laugh. “If that’s the bar by which I’m being measured—”

“You’ve already surpassed it with miles to spare.”

“The man must be beyond all hope.”

“He’s insufferable and overbearing, is what he is. I’ve hated dealing with him these past years.” She couldn’t suppress a self-satisfied smile. “I can hardly wait to see the look on his face when he learns that I’ve managed to marry before my birthday.”

“Will you have to see him again?”

“I’m afraid I must. Not only to sort out the legalities for my half of the business, but to make another argument for Teddy’s half. I’ll have to go to London on Friday. I already have an appointment with another solicitor.” She frowned. “I wonder if I should keep it?”

“Is it purely to force Weatherwax’s hand?”

“That was the original idea. Unfortunately, Mr. Finchley isn’t able to represent me. He’s only agreed to see me in order to refer me to another solicitor. Still, I…” She trailed off. “What is it?”

Alex took a step back from her. “What did you say?”

Her hand fell from his cheek. She looked at him in bewilderment. “Which part? Was it about Mr. Finchley?”

He visibly flinched. “Is that his name?”

“Thomas Finchley, Esquire. That’s what his card says.” She searched Alex’s face. It was slowly draining of color. “Have you had dealings with the man?”

“Have you?” he returned.

“No. I haven’t even communicated with him. Not directly. The letter I received was signed by his clerk. It was he who set the appointment.”

“Cancel it.”

“But why—”

“It’s unnecessary.” He turned his back to her for a moment. Laura heard him take a ragged breath. She had the impression he was exercising brutal control over his emotions. “Whereabouts in London was this solicitor located?”

“On Fleet Street. Not far from Mr. Weatherwax’s office.” She touched his sleeve. “Alex…who is he?”

He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I don’t know. He might be no one. Or…”

“Or?”

“He might be a boy I knew once in the orphanage. A former friend.”