“Say no more.” If he did, she may not recover from the wound to her pride. “I thought we should be seen together if people are to believe we’re—” She cut herself off, pursing her lips. “But there’s no need to make this too real.”
Something dark passed over his expression. “Right. It’s no’ real.”
She swallowed, her mouth dry. “It’s not real.”
He exhaled in a huff. “In that case…” He didn’t finish his sentence, merely bobbed his head in her direction and quit the room, taking his warmth with him.
Her heart had been fooled in the past, had looked for evidence of something deeper when there was none. Whatever affection hedemonstrated was part of the illusion, part of the agreement he’d made with her because he pitied her. And she no longer wanted to be pitied.
But as she climbed the stairs to her room, she wondered if what she felt for Callum might be the only thing in her life that was real.
Chapter 15
“Valebrook is asking forhis cut of the returns after three years, but Langley and Doddington want theirs after one.”
“Aye,” Callum muttered, ignoring his cousin. “Seems logical.”That glorious, soft mouth with lips the color of ripe berries in the heat of summer.
“Unless the canal is finished within the year, which it won’t be, we’ll have no profits by then.”
“I agree.”The swell of her arse. Christ, I’d love to dig my fingers into that flesh.
“And we agreed they’d pay the entire sum in rashers of bacon and quail eggs.”
“Good idea.”Those eyes, like aged whisky—
“For fuck’s sake, Callum.” James slapped his hand down on the leather seat of the carriage, and Callum jumped. “Where is your head?”
Back in the chapel with Violet. Callum scowled, although he wasn’t certain if his ire was directed towards his cousin or himself. “Here, with ye, with the contract.”
James gave him a once-over. “Of course,” he drawled and turned to look out the rain-splattered window.
Callum had never brought his cousin into his confidence about a woman, because, well, there hadn’t ever been a woman worth discussing. Not that his situation with Violetwasworth discussing, even if he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
And now was not the time to change tactics; James would likely push Callum in her direction, urging him to take her for his wife, settle down and raise a family in Edinburgh. But, if she took a husband, she needed one that wasn’t constantly running down danger for the sake of a payout, one who lived in perpetual fear of falling short. How could he provide the life she wanted when he couldn’t support his own family? Callum wasn’t the man she wanted, that sheneeded.
And he didn’t want to be, of course.
Violet’s disclosure of her past had flattened him—both the poignancy of the tale and that she’d shared it with him, of all people, as though he was worthy of her confidence. He would help her for the next few days, as long as nothing impeded his work, ensuring the financial security that would protect his aunt and cousin so they’d never have to know how precarious their situation truly was.
This woman with her soulful eyes and tragic past couldn’t knock him off course.
The office of Archibald Grant, Solicitor, occupied the second floor of a nondescript two-story building with wide front windows, one block off a busy thoroughfare in the heart of York. Callum and James stopped outside the stairwell to shake off their overcoats and umbrellas, and froze at the sight. A chipped bust of Aristotle propped open the office door, and a thick cloud of dust hung in the air and coated their tongues. James coughed as they advanced into the office itself, stepping over boxes stuffed with files and loose paper, and Callum startled when he saw the man standing on a stepstool attempting to retrieve a book from the highest shelf.
Rarely did Callum encounter a man larger than him, but the gentleman who turned to greet him was built like a barrel on stilts. His broad chest and long, sturdy limbs that spoke of a Nordic ancestor led to an incongruously boyish face topped with blond curls, the scruff surrounding a wide grin an obvious attempt to age his appearance. He jabbed his silver-rimmed spectacles up his nose, then descended the ladder without retrieving whatever it was he needed. He seemed far too young and disorganized to have his own practice, let alone be the solicitor for an earl. Perhaps he was the clerk, or—
“Mr. Hawthorne, Mr. Taggart, a pleasure to meet you,” he said, thrusting out a dirty hand. “Archibald Grant.” Mr. Grant chuckled as Callum and James exchanged a look. He did not wear a jacket, and he’d rolled his shirtsleeves up over his thick forearms. “Forgive the present circumstances. I’ve only just left my previous firm to strike out on my own. A risky venture, I know, and I’mthrilled Lord Valebrook kept me on after my, um,eventfuldeparture. I helped him with some permitting issues with his tenants and have done little in the way of financial agreements, and I’m grateful to have earned his trust and business. But that’s neither here nor there.” He pulled in a deep breath that expanded his massive chest further, then exhaled in a rush. “We have quite a bit to discuss.”
The barrage of words left Callum speechless. Evidently not needing Callum’s reply, Mr. Grant lifted a stack of loose paper off the lone chair in the office, then dragged the step stool beside the chair. Callum gestured for James to sit, but remained standing himself. Mr. Grant heaved a box from his desk that would have cowed any other man and dropped it with a grunt, then sat atop it.
“I’m curious how you’ve convinced a group of lords to invest in a scheme in Central America, when the British and French have already failed in this venture. What makes you different?” The blue of his eyes glinted with shrewd intelligence that took Callum aback.
Callum shifted on his feet as his stomach tightened. How much did this man know about the state of his accounts, and what had he shared with Valebrook?What might he say to James?“I ken it seems unorthodox—”
“Scottish!” Mr. Grant’s expression lit up. “Charming! I assumed you were English, being a friend of Lord Valebrook and all, but—”
“Mr. Grant,” Callum interrupted. “The agreement?”
“Right. And call me Archie, please.” His brow furrowed as he pulled a bundle of papers from an unsteady pile, putting his palm atop the stack to keep it from collapsing to the floor. He nudged his glasses into place with a thick finger before darting his gaze between the cousins. “To whom should I address my questions?”
