A moment later, Angela placed the cup of tea on a small table, bending down to do so. She was so close to him, he could smell her perfume, a floral scent, and her gleaming white breasts were directly in front of him. Her closeness made his heart flutter. How he wanted her. He took tight control of himself.

Now Angela moved across the floor and poured herself a cup of tea and went to her chair, moving as gracefully as always.

Blackie tried to distract himself. “I must admit I am a little confused. Ye see, ye said ye grew up in Harrogate, but then mentioned ye lived in Upper Armley ’til ye got married.”

“Oh, sorry, Blackie, that does sound odd, I suppose. I did grow up in Harrogate, and I did come back here to live with Mam and Sarah for a few months before I married Anthony. You see, he was a bit older than me, was in the Royal Navy, and he knew I might be lonely in Harrogate once he was at sea for months on end—”

“But ye had yer aunt there, didn’t ye?” Blackie cut in. “Ye could live with her.”

Angela took a sip of her tea, her beautiful face serious for a moment. “I did, but she was really, really frail by then, and Anthony was truly wise. He was looking to the future. He wanted me to find a nice little house here in Armley so I could be close to my mother and sister, after she passed away, my aunt, I mean. And while he was on his ship.”

“And was this the house ye found then?”

Angela smiled. “It was indeed, although it did take a long time to find the right one. Months. Still, it did turn out all right, didn’t it?”

“More than that. I do like this design. Ye see, I am an admirer of the Palladian style in architecture.… I like symmetry in buildings.”

“And mine has symmetry?”

He nodded, unable to speak. Angela had risen and was walking across the floor to him, a lingering smile on her face, her eyes directly on his. She sat down on the sofa and stared up at him. “Blackie, I want … us to become … friends. Can we?”

Finding his voice, he said, a little hoarsely, “I want that too. Close friends.”

Drawing nearer to him, she reached out and touched his cheek. “Very close,” she murmured.

He almost flinched as her long, delicate fingers stroked his cheek; he let out a long sigh and closed his eyes. His heart was thudding in his chest.

“Open your eyes, Blackie,” she said in a soft voice.

He did so, and looked at her, his dark eyes full of desire and yearning.