She wet her lips, and suddenly Callum felt like the floor had dropped out beneath him.
“We cause a scandal.”
Chapter 10
“Were ye planning onkeeping me prisoner, lass?”
As soon as she heard Callum’s voice, Violet spun to warn him to duck, but his head had already clanged into a dangling metal chain. “So sorry,” she whispered as he rubbed his forehead while uttering a string of what she assumed to be Gaelic curses, most likely directed at her. “The dungeon wasn’t designed for men of your stature.”
His eyes narrowed as they scanned the dank chamber, taking in the curved stone walls and ceiling, the cobbled floor, the hooks embedded in the wall. “No’ the friendliest meeting space. What use did an abbey have for a dungeon?” He’d voiced his concerns for her sanity when she pushed the ugly baby’s portrait aside to reveal a false wall leading down a narrow, ancient staircase, but she hadn’t dignified him with a response at the time. Once she settled on a course of action, she was not to be dissuaded, no matter how unusual their circumstances might be.
She planted her hands on her hips and followed his gaze. “The abbey was built around a 9th century keep, but few people outside the family know about these little nooks and crannies. Besides, it’s historical and utilitarian. Bridget wanted to convert it to a cellar for aging cheeses.”
“Call me picky, but I wouldnae want to eat dungeon cheese.”
“We’re not here for cheese. I wanted to make sure we could speak alone, without anyone interrupting us.”
“Except the ghosts.”
She recoiled. “Ghosts? There aren’t ghosts here.”
“There are spirits ev’rywhere.” The black slashes of his brows raised as he looked her over. “Perhaps ye cannae see them.”
“Are you trying to frighten me?”
He shrugged. “Ye’re the one who dragged me into a dungeon.”
The urge to growl at him then lock him inside said dungeon was becoming pressing. “As I said, I wanted us to speak alone, ghosts or other spirits notwithstanding, about my… expectations for our arrangement.”
“Yer expectations? I’m the one helping ye, am I not? Shouldnae I have some for ye?”
Her jaw dropped. “Well, I—I hadn’t thought of that. But yes, you should.” She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “What expectations do you have of me?”
He leaned over an embarrassing amount to reach her eye level. “I’m a man of business. I came to this party for one reason only.”
“May I assume it wasn’t to speak with failed society misses in a dungeon?”
The corner of his mouth twitched as though he wanted to smile but resisted. “Ye’re correct. Valebrook has invested with me in the past, and I need him to do it again and bring along some of his friends. But I’m an outsider, and yer lot enjoy keeping money to yerselves.”
“You need me to convince them to invest with you.” She laughed and shook her head. “You don’t know me well, but I’ve never been able to convince a man to do anything.” Her mind whirled for a moment before she gasped. “Timothy.”
His brows furrowed. “What about him?”
“He’s brilliant with money. His marquessate was in shambles before he inherited, and now it’s one of the wealthiest in England.”
“What is a marquessate?”
Good lord, did Scottish men live under rocks? “It means he’s wealthy and powerful. If he invested with you, others would follow suit.”
He tilted his head, but she didn’t miss the way his shoulders straightened, his muscles tensed as though poised to retreat. “I wouldnae mind his support. Will ye convince him?”
A shiver completely unrelated to the dank of the dungeon ran up her spine as she saw her plan slipping away. “I can’t promise what he’ll do, but I can try. Is that enough?”
“I can’t promise I’ll ruin ye, but I’ll try.”
“I suppose that’s the best we can offer, isn’t it?”
He did smile then, a slow, hesitant movement of his lips that was rather charming, although she’d never admit it. “Aye, it is.” Heblinked twice in quick succession, and whatever softness had been in his expression vanished. “And now for yer expectations.”
