Convincing Leopold by Ava March

Nothing to be done for it, though, but to try again today. He pulled out his pocket watch. Not yet ten. The files and papers covering his desk screamed that he needed to remain exactly where he sat for many hours to come. But damn if he would allow another day to pass without speaking to Thorn. Brow furrowed, he assessed the state of his desk. At the very least, he couldn’t leave the office before luncheon. He needed to finish the contract.
     
    He pulled his mind back to the paper before him but could not remember what he had just read. With a shake of his head, he started back at the top of the page.
     
    Four days had passed without a visit or even a note from Thorn. They had not gone that long without seeing each other since their return from Yorkshire three months ago. Was Thorn intentionally avoiding him? Had he already moved on from Arthur?
     
    No, no . Arthur forced his grip to unclench from his pen. They had only had an argument…where he had acted a complete arse . But he had left his card both times he had called. Thorn would know he had attempted, twice, to speak to him. Surely Thorn would take it as a sign that Arthur did not want to end matters between them. And he had told Thorn he had not meant to push him from the bed, had even tried to apologize that night.
     
    Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, willed his pulse to calm. It would be all right. Thorn loved him. Why Thorn loved him, how exactly someone like himself had earned such a man’s devotion…he hadn’t a clue. But surely Arthur had not single-handedly destroyed all traces of that devotion.
     
    He had finally reached the end of the contract when a knock sounded on his door. He had shut his office door when he had arrived that morning in an effort to keep Fenton from asking so many inane questions. The secretary would never learn to use his own brain if Arthur made it too easy for him. Ah well. The closed door had worked for a few hours.
     
    “Yes,” he called.
     
    Wilson, not Fenton, stepped into his office. “You have a visitor, Mr. Barrington,” he said, stopping before Arthur’s desk. “Mr. Amherst, a former client of yours. Are you available, or shall I have him schedule an appointment?”
     
    Randolph was here? Good God. It was on the tip of his tongue to have Wilson tell Randolph he was unavailable, but instead he said, “I can see him now.” No use prolonging the inevitable, and he certainly did not want Randolph knocking on the door of his apartments.
     
    He slipped his pen into the silver penholder, quickly tidied the papers on his desk, and then pulled his shoulders straight.
     
    The man entered his office, his gaze scanning the room before shutting the door behind him. “Good afternoon, Barrington. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” He took a seat in one of the chairs opposite Arthur’s desk.
     
    To his relief, his ex-lover’s appearance prompted no other emotion than a determination to express his disinterest in no uncertain terms and send the man on his way. Arthur opened his mouth, intent on conveying said disinterest, when Randolph held up a hand.
     
    “Please. I intend to make this visit short, and I intend to make it my last. I always planned to take a wife. It’s an expected thing for a man to do, and marriage can have its benefits if one is wise in their choice of a wife. The wedded state need not necessarily prevent a man from seeking his pleasures elsewhere, but I can understand if you feel differently. I can even respect it. I…” Letting out a breath, Randolph shook his head. The arrogance slipped from his features, replaced with what looked almost like regret. “I thought we understood each other, you and I. That we wanted the same thing from each other. Please know I never meant to cause you pain. I would be most thankful if you could find it within yourself to accept my apology.”
     
    Arthur briefly closed his eyes, then opened them again. Yes, that was indeed Randolph