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No wonder his brother was targeting Miss Marshall

And no wonder Edward had failed to convince her He’d huffed internally when she’d called him a womanthrope--but he’d underestimated her so badly that he had to wonder if he was the sort of person who couldn’t give a woman her due simply because of her sex

A mistake he needed to correct instantly, if he was to deal with her at all

Hell, he’d threatened to ruin her reputation as if she were a fussy, prim little debutante No wonder she hadn’t blinked It had been rather like waving a butter knife at an accomplished swordsman

The door to the little rooressed She and the other wo a few sheets through theover the resultant copy He could hear the over antecedents, a friendly little squabble Miss Marshall left shortly thereafter

Instead of turning back to the archives, Edward opened his ss There was so an experience to a sketch or two that engaged his memory of details

He tried to recall her office as best as he could He could envision every last scratch on her desk, could remember the exact stack of papers, the position of the inkwell and pen These things he penciled with swift, sure lines

But when he tried to draw Miss Marshall, his ood She’d had her auburn hair up in a siray with black cuffs But none of the lines he put on paper see vital He didn’t knohat it was

At three in the afternoon, she returned He shut his notebook, picked up another newspaper--he was nine months in, now--and pretended to be absorbed in it

She ca a paper sack, which she held up

"Sandwich, Mr Clark?"

He set the newspaper down "And you’re feeding ine that you care"

"I have an older brother" She came into the room "He complains bitterly if he "

He snorted "I don’t whine Ever"

"Well, we can be sure you won’t now" She handed him the sack "There’s water and soap up front, if you care to…" She stopped and frowned "You never reloves I should have warned you It’s easier to wash ink off hands than fabric"