They Were Supposed to Be Arguing Over Plaster and Ledgers — They Ended Up Falling in Love

They Were Supposed to Be Arguing Over Plaster and Ledgers — They Ended Up Falling in Love

Chapter 12

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She shook her head. "It is only gossip."His expression hardened. "About us?" he asked.The question, direct and quiet, made color rise to her cheeks. "About me," she said. "Women are usually generous enough to leave gentlemen uninjured.""I am sorry.""You did not speak it.""No. But my presence helped cause it."Phoebe looked at him then. "Do not make the mistake of thinking yourself the cause of everything, Mr. Meer. That is a very masculine form of vanity."Despite himself, he laughed. The sound loosened something in her chest.They stood beneath the awning while rain blurred the square."I have no fortune," she said suddenly.He looked at her."I manage rooms. I keep accounts. I live with my uncle and possess two good gowns, one mended pelisse, and a talent for seating quarrelsome matrons apart at supper. Society may praise usefulness, but it does not forgive a woman who appears to forget her place."Mr. Meer's face softened, but he did not insult her with easy comfort. "I am a mason's son," he said, "educated by patronage, tolerated by gentlemen when useful, dismissed when inconvenient. I know something of place."She held his gaze. "You do not seem dismissed.""Not today.""And tomorrow?""That depends what we build."The words were simple, but Phoebe felt them deeply.Before she could answer, a carriage stopped outside the town hall. Alderman Voss stepped down, followed by Mr. Gibbs. The two men hurried beneath the portico, heads close together.Mr. Meer's eyes narrowed."Were they expected at the committee office?" Phoebe asked."Not by me."They exchanged a look. No agreement was spoken, yet both moved at once.The town hall side door stood slightly open, and voices carried through the passage. Phoebe knew she ought not listen. She also knew that if gentlemen wished not to be overheard while plotting harm, they should close doors.Voss's voice came first: "The report must state immediate danger, not reparable danger. Immediate. The words are essential."Another voice answered, low and uneasy: Mr. Hargreaves, the junior surveyor appointed by the county magistrates. "I cannot sign what is untrue.""You can sign what is prudent. Suppose the ceiling falls after you hesitate. Suppose lives are lost. Better a severe recommendation than a fatal indulgence."

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They Were Supposed to Be Arguing Over Plaster and Ledgers — They Ended Up Falling in Love

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