He sighed, knowing his man was testing him. It was an old game between them. “This is London, Macfie.”
“Aye, and London can also be cold as a winter’s privy, cannae she?” Macfie returned.
“I concede the point. However, today is not one of those days, as you undoubtedly are already aware,” he said. “But enough of all this nattering. You must realize I have a reason for calling you in here at this time of the morning.”
“Aye.” Macfie flashed an unrepentant grin. “Since ye ordinarily spend all morning scowling at yer desk and hollering for more coffee, with the occasional threat tae my puir eyebrows, I had a suspicion ye needed tae speak with me.”
Decker bit back the urge to laugh, much-needed though it was today. “Am I that terrible, Macfie?”
His aide-de-camp blinked. “Need I answer ye, sir?”
He gritted his teeth. “Not if you wish to keep your position.”
Macfie made an exaggerated effort of rolling his lips inward, as if they were now pasted together. He furthered the comical display by holding his breath. Decker wanted to be irritated with him, but he could not deny the man was hilarious. Furthering the effect, Macfie’s face was turning red.
“Are you holding your breath?” he asked needlessly.
Macfie nodded his head in assent, looking as if he were about to burst.
Cheeky arsehole.
“You are fortunate you excel at your position, Macfie,” he said somberly, the same old threat. “You may exhale. I wish to have a serious conversation with you.”
Macfie released his breath in a noisy display. “Thank ye, sir. What was it ye wanted tae discuss that is serious? The last time I had a serious conversation with anyone, it was after I went for a wee swim in the loch and emerged with leeches feasting on my doodle.”
This time, Decker could not help himself. He laughed because he bloody well had to. “Dare I ask what manner of conversation such an event precipitated?”
“It swelled up something horrible, tae where I could scarcely even take a piss, and I had tae see a physician over it.” Macfie nodded, his countenance earnest. “Never again will I go swimming in a loch. ‘Tis a solemn vow. The sea or nothing for me. Now what was it ye wished tae discuss?”
How to follow up leeches on a doodle? Decker was reasonably certain he was the only man in England currently facing such a quandary. But Macfie was all he had for the moment. He needed advice, and he could not very well ask Sin. Happily married men who fancied themselves deliriously in love with their wives could not offer trustworthy guidance.
Decker busied himself with rounding his desk. “Have a seat, Macfie. This may take some time.”
His desk here was simple and unadorned. Not nearly as elegant or ornate as the desk in his study and yet, somehow, this desk suited him far better. He was a wealthy man—now in his own right, and to the devil with the Earl of Graham’s leavings—and yet simplicity still appealed to him most of all.
Decker seated himself in the familiar comfort of his chair and watched as Macfie folded his massive body into one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk. The man scarcely fit.
“Out with it then, sir,” Macfie invited when Decker hesitated. “I just told ye about the leeches on my doodle, after all.”
“Right.” He paused, searching his thoughts. “Have you ever been in love, Macfie?”
The Scotsman’s expression sobered instantly. “Aye, of course I have.”
“What happened, if I am not being so bold?” he dared to ask. “There is no Mrs. Macfie, unless I am mistaken.”
Macfie shook his head. “There isnae. The lass I would have had as my bride wanted tae stay where she was, live the life she had always known. I wanted something more. I left, and she remained. That is all.”
“Do you have bitter feelings toward her?” Decker asked. “If this female in question were to send you a letter, telling you she still loved you and that she was free to pursue you now, what would you do?”
He had not forgotten about Nora’s letter, it was true. Though he had burned it, and though he had vowed to be a man worthy of Jo’s love, more emotions had pummeled him on the carriage ride here. He did not want Nora—quite the contrary. No part of him longed to pursue the invitation she had given. But he was…confused. Unsettled. He needed to speak with someone,