A Scandal Most Daring (Saved By Desire 2)

Although she would never admit it to Cecily, Tahlia would only relax again once they were back in the safe confines of Henry’s house. It was unnerving the way that there were muffled sounds of movement all around them yet they couldn’t see another living soul. People suddenly appeared out of the fog and disappeared again as quickly. It was disconcerting to say the very least.

Unsettled, Tahlia squared her shoulders and entered the offices of Kibble, Witham and Kemp. Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long before a small gentleman scurried out of one of the offices at the rear of the building. He practically raced toward her, a broad smile of welcome on his face.

“Good morning, ma’am, I have been expecting you to contact me,” he called gaily as he came to a stop before her.

“I apologise for calling by unannounced. I happened to be in London, you see, and found a letter from my uncle last night,” Tahlia explained.

She was a little nonplussed when Mr Kibble nodded. “I have been pondering what to do if you didn’t contact me. Suffice to say that now you are here I can complete the last of your uncle’s requirements. Let’s go into my office, shall we?”

Inside his office, Tahlia watched as the small man darted this way and that. He removed piles of papers from his desk, two chairs, and a shelf, and cleared space on the littered surface of a side table. He waved absently at Cecily, who studied a rather rickety chair in the corner of the room in dismay before perilously taking a seat. Tahlia dutifully perched on the edge of a rather battered seat Mr Kibble held for her, and waited patiently for the solicitor take a seat behind his desk.

Once he did, rather than speak to her, he began to rifle through a pile of papers.

“Now, where were they? Yes, yes, here they are. I have them here,” he muttered. As he spoke he searched through one pile before discarding them onto the floor and turning his attention to a second pile. “Yes, here they are.”

He held the papers up to show her, a proud smile of accomplishment on his face. Dropping them onto the table before him, he began to flick through the pages.

“Now, what do we have here then?” he muttered.

Tahlia watched him. She wasn’t sure if he was talking to her, or himself. Either way, she tried not to fidget with impatience while he hunted for whatever he was looking for.

“Now, I have all the paperwork ready like you asked me,” the small man began. “Oh, please do forgive me. I, heaven’s above, please, I beg of you, please forgive my ill-manners. Would you like some refreshments? How about a nice cup of tea?”

Tahlia immediately shook her head. The manner in which the man fluttered from one thing to the next was amazing, but also a little disconcerting. If she didn’t hurry him along any, she was likely to spend today in his office. Time was short, and her discomfort was rife. She already wanted to sneeze, and did so when he unsettled a pile of books closest to her and released a plume of dust into the air.

“Oh, please forgive me,” he muttered.

Tahlia’s gaze flew up in astonishment when he suddenly jumped up, raced around the table, and bowed before her.

“Please forgive me. I am Mr Bartholomew Kibble, of Kibble, Witham, and Kemp. I dealt with all of your uncle’s legal matters, and have the delightful task of offering you our services as well, my dear.”

In a daze, Tahlia shook his pro-offered hand and watched as he settled down behind his desk once more. It was a relief that he was now sitting still. She hoped he remained so because she was bursting with curiosity.

“Thank you,” she replied. “Now, about my uncle’s house-”

“I have the necessary documentation here for you to sign to make it yours.” He beamed at her as though she had achieved a major coup.

Tahlia almost hated having to deflate his triumphant eagerness. But, she suspected that if she didn’t do something she would be steamrollered into doing something rash – like keeping the place. That was the last thing she wanted to do. She held a hand up to halt him when he took a deep breath in readiness to launch into his next set of instructions.

“I wish to sell my uncle’s house,” she announced into the expectant silence.

Mr Kibble’s breath whooshed out in a rush. He stared at her blankly over the top of his spectacles for several moments in disbelief.

“Pardon?”

Tahlia heaved an impatient sigh. “I wish to sell my uncle’s house. I have absolutely no intention of ever residing in London again. With that in mind, I see no reason to keep it. Ergo, I wish to arrange its sale. As quickly as possible, because I have pressing matters waiting for me back at home,” she declared firmly.

“Home?” Mr Kibble repeated weakly.

“My home. In Rutland,” Tahlia prompted.

“Yes, yes, I believe that was where I wrote to you,” the solicitor replied absently.

“That’s right, you did,” Tahlia replied.

She didn’t think he was listening to her because he was muttering while she spoke, but she carried on regardless.

“It is a small county next to Leicestershire,” she prompted, wondering if he was a little dense.