The Surrender of Miss Fairbourne by Madeline Hunter

chance she could see her brother again, if he might come home to her and Fairbourne’s, and take their father’s place, if she might laugh with him again, even one more time, she would do it too.
    She had gone out in the morning and taken a better look at the contents of that wagon. All of it, even the wine, could be sold as if it came from someone in England. It should fetch a good price. Only she had no idea to whom she was supposed to give the proceeds.
    She pondered whether to bring the wagon here, and what story to give Obediah. A plan was forming when abruptly the door opened, shattering her privacy.
    Suddenly Southwaite stood there, looking at her with surprise. Obediah’s head angled around from behind the earl’s shoulder.
    She managed a hooded glare at Obediah for failing to remove the Kauffman from the window. Then she greeted Southwaite with as bright an expression as she could muster.
    “How good of you to visit us, sir. Were you riding by and decided to pay a very brief social call?”
    “I have been here some hours and my purpose was not social.”
    “So you have chosen to interfere anyway, despite what I said at our last meeting.”
    “I have chosen to assess the situation here as I see fit, as I explained at our last meeting.” He strolled into the chamber and looked at the deep shelves that held urns and old porcelain. While he distracted himself, she slid her catalogue notes under the silver tray.
    “Lord Southwaite arrived early, and
immediately
went to your father’s office, Miss Fairbourne.” Obediah’s expressions, invisible to Southwaite, communicated warning and distress. “He insisted that I accompany him
at once
, to explain what matters he might need explained.”
    That clarified why the Kauffman had not been removed from the window, but left other unfortunate puzzles. “Matters?” she asked, tipping her head up to smile at the earl.
    Southwaite ignored her prompt. He gazed down at the table where she sat. “Do you have a fondness for silver?”
    “Yes, I do. I possess an unabated passion for it. I always come here before auctions to admire the silver.” It sounded stupid to her, but he had been the one to suggest such a possibility.
    His right hand swung out sideways in a lazy gesture. Obediah rightly understood that he had been dismissed, and backed out of the chamber.
    Southwaite sidled over to the table while his gaze examined its surface. “Some of it is handsome.” He lifted a heavy candelabra and turned it to check its mark. “Is there more, or is this all of it?”
    “For now, this is what has come in. Obediah told me that he anticipates another ten lots’ worth next week.”
    He set the piece down. To her surprise he then sat on the edge of her table, his doeskin-encased hip and thigh supported by its edge and the rest of him still braced by his other leg. The casual position brought him alarmingly close to her.
    “Ten lots will help, but the sale needs more than silver. It is not looking good, Miss Fairbourne. Better to retreat and be remembered as excellent rather than to let the world watch one’s fall.”
    “I am sure that more is coming, including more paintings. Also books, I believe. And cases of very fine, very old wine.” The lies trickled out with distressing ease. This auction had to be held now. More than pride and memories might be at stake.
    “Wine?”
    “So I hear. From the estate of a gentleman.” She hoped she appeared blasé. “A gentleman who needs to pay creditors.”
    He examined her face, as if searching to see whether she merely put him off. She kept her expression innocent, she hoped, but his attention alone sent a series of tremors through her. She prayed she would not blush at the physicalevidence that her reactions during that last meeting had apparently left her vulnerable in new ways to this man.
    His gaze warmed and became even more direct. He saw the secret excitement in her. She just knew he did. His eyes carried a new intimacy