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The note had given William the perfect excuse to call on Eliza at home. He’d forgotten to leave it on her desk with The Illustrated Police News when she unexpectedly entered her office. He’d become flustered at her nearness, feeling boyishly shy, as she accepted his apology; she’d been genuinely grateful he’d given her the credit she was due for “cracking the case of ghostly terror.”
Something had happened between them in that moment, something he couldn’t ignore, when tenderness and honesty had eclipsed all their previous antagonism toward each other.
Now, he pulled the envelope from his overcoat’s breast pocket after hanging up his hat and coat in her front hall. He followed Ivy to the drawing room, where he found Eliza seated on the settee, her stockinged legs tucked under her, a book in hand. She looked up in surprise.
“William, I wasn’t expecting you this evening. Is something wrong?”
“No, Eliza, but I wanted you to have this,” he replied, handing her the envelope.
“What is it?” she asked, her voice uncertain.
“Read it.”
She opened the letter and read as Ivy asked whether William would take tea or whisky.
“Whisky, please,” he answered, then watched Eliza with wry amusement as her eyes darted across the page. She’d always been hard to read when she was quiet; now was no different.
He noticed the corners of her mouth slowly curve up into a smile, and his breath caught in his chest at how lovely she was, firelight capturing her honey-golden locks in its glow, her eyes soft, her cheeks flushed.
She murmured, “I like this part,” then proceeded to read aloud to his embarrassment. “‘I’m sorry I haven’t always given you the credit you deserve for your contributions to my cases. This time, however, I’m not leaving you out of the limelight. The printer agreed to run a story about your solving the Henderson case. Hopefully, that will bring you steady business.’ That means a great deal, William. But perhaps you didn’t need to reiterate that I often infuriate you when we’re together, making you lose your train of thought.” Her lips formed a slight pout, and he couldn’t tell if she was gearing up for battle or merely teasing him.
“My sense of reason tends to fly out the window when you’re arguing with me, Eliza.”
“It’s not me who argues. It’s you.”
“Must you disagree with everything that I say? Haven’t we called a truce? I’ve come bearing gifts not once but twice today. Surely that affords me some patience from you.”
His cheeks burned, his collar feeling tight, but as his temper ticked up, she bestowed upon him the sweetest smile he’d seen on her face since they were teenagers.
She touched his hand gently with hers and soothed, “William, I’m teasing you. You needn’t take me so seriously. Of course, I’d like to continue our truce - at least until the next time you infuriate me.” She winked at him, laughing softly.
The End