Damn me, am I twelve?
Some men preferred a certain hair color or height or body type. Evan loved all women, along with the occasional man. And had been happy to show them, at least until the last few months. He stared at Althea.
What is different about this woman?
He had helped a fair number of women finance their futures, but rarely were they business owners who already ran profitable stores. A shop cleaning business, a laundress, almost—he smiled as he thought of Michael’s wife, Penelope—a baker trying to buy a shop. And after one disastrous episode, he preferred to initiate investment inquiries, rather than field requests. But this woman’s intelligence in her delectable form beckoned him.
In fact, he could only think of one woman with more business acumen than Althea. The Dowager Countess of Peterborough’s skill with investing matched his, although he’d never admit it to her. They enjoyed a friendly competition, after all, but he’d never found her sexy. In part, that was because until his passing last year, she’d been happily married to the previous earl. Besides, once he’d found that she, not the earl, had purchased leather cuffs from Robert, Evan knew they would not be sexually compatible for the long-term.
This woman’s body had attracted him. Her brain was rousing him further. He shifted as his cock pulsed against his breeches, then gave himself a mental eye roll and refocused.
“I am not willing to hand over that much control.” Althea shook her head.
Ah. Here it is.“It could be structured a number of ways. A partnership for the one location, or an overall share of both locations.”
Her jaw set. “My husband managed the store while he kept me—” She broke off and restarted. “While I managed the household. When he died, I had to learn it all at once. I am not ready to hand it over to another man.” When Evan started to speak, she held a hand up. “Even if said man was willing to be a silent partner or near-silent adviser, others would inevitably turn to him for decisions. That, I could not abide.”
The skin around his eyes tightened as he tried to hide his frustration. It sounded as though she wanted money with no accountability. The story of his life. He sighed. “There are ways to create the partnership so that it would not be seen by outsiders.”
“That does not account for a man thinking he can take over,” she retorted.
At some point, he should probably coach her on not giving away her stance on an issue quite so readily. It put her at a disadvantage in negotiations. But not now. “Why don’t you consider things, and if you’re interested in hearing some possible ownership structures and figures, come visit me again before the end of the week? Or even back in London?”
She stood, her hands fisted by her side. He could see she wanted to refuse again. Or send him to hell. But she stayed silent as she reclaimed the paperwork he held out.
His annoyance at yet another supplicant looking to milk him for money and at the object of his first arousal in months being snatched away caused him to lash out. “A woman your age should know by now that nothing is free.”
She halted halfway to the door but did not turn.
“You’ll need to decide how badly you want this,” he continued. “In the meantime, I hope I shall see you playing games again this evening.”
Her back straightened and her shoulders tensed. Still facing the door, she nodded once and left.
Evan dropped into his desk chair and palmed his flagging cock. “Maybe later,” he murmured. He wasn’t ready to give up on Lady Althea Egerton yet.
Chapter Four
As dinner concluded, Althea’s nerves ramped higher. She hoped a table in the card room would again be available and she could win a few rounds then retire without fanfare.
Her host’s parting words rang in her ears, sounding more like a dare than a polite dismissal.
With Beth giving her courage at her side, she loitered in the hall to evaluate her options.
There were no card tables in either room. She wanted to roll her eyes and stomp her feet.Variety is overrated. In fact, variety was terrifying at this particular party. She also wanted to run back to her room and hide under the covers with a book and a candle.
“Ohh, ’tis different tonight. What are the games?” Beth bounced on her toes.
Althea gasped as Beth let go of her arm and pranced over to a footman, a gleam in her eye. Althea watched her cousin closely. She knew Beth’s signs of interest in someone, and she was relatively sure that was the same footman Beth had been eyeing in lieu of needlework. She was pointing to the rooms and asking questions.
Althea shrank back against the wall, hoping one room would hold a musicale or other mundane house party choice.
She felt him before she saw him. Her host loomed by her side. She considered it looming when he was close enough that she expected to feel his breath. He may have been simply leaning in to be heard as guests crowded toward one room or another, all rustling skirts and chatter.
“Lady Althea. May I interest you in dancing?” He gestured to the right, then swept his hand to the left. “Or blindman’s bluff mayhap?”
“Where’s the whist?” she blurted, her hands fisted with nerves.
“Whist is so yesterday, don’t you think?” he drawled. “Besides, it did not seem to challenge you much.”
