“You were so confident I’d come?”
“You were the one who requested a meeting.”
“I wasn’t certain you’d understand my message.”
“Are you always so careful not to give away anything?”
“My experience with your father has made me a frightfully suspicious and more cautious wench.”
He wished his sire didn’t have to constantly intrude and wasn’t the reason they were here. “You thought of something.”
Polly returned and set their drinks before them. Marcus handed over the coins. “Keep the extra for yourself.”
She bobbed a quick curtsy. “Thank you, sir.” Then she was dashing off to see to someone else.
Esme took a sip of her brandy, licked her lips. “Not really, no.”
Fascinated with watching as the pink tip of her tongue journeyed over her lush mouth, he needed a moment to realize she was responding to his earlier comment. “Then why the missive?”
“It occurred to me that we didn’t have the best of beginnings. Perhaps if you shared a bit more of what you’ve uncovered thus far, it might trigger a memory of something of import. Your father’s actions put us both through a trial of sorts—well, it put your entire family through hell. I would like to assist you if I can.”
“Why do I have the feeling there’s more to it than that?”
“Not a very trusting fellow, are you?” He arched a brow. “I don’t suppose I can blame you for that. I’m not very trusting myself.”
“So I determined when you wrote only your first initial on the missive.”
Her lips moved in a toying, teasing manner. “Did your brother open the letter?”
He merely nodded.
“What a naughty fellow.”
Somehow, she made it sound like a compliment, a characteristic she admired, and he was tempted to show her exactly how naughty he could be. He didn’t like remembering a time when he had teased, when he’d been adept at enjoying all the pleasurable pursuits that life had to offer. When he wasn’t filled with such loathing, a great deal of it directed toward faceless men who had lured his father toward his end. “I might say the same of your butler. He followed me when I left you.”
“Brewster is a protective chap and didn’t trust you. You gave him a time of it, didn’t you? I rather suspect you prolonged his misery, leading him hither and yon like a wayward child.”
He didn’t much like how it pleased him that she’d known exactly what he’d done. He’d had a jolly good time doing it, too. “Is it possible my father might have mentioned something to him?”
“Hardly. Like most of the nobility he paid scant attention to servants, certainly wouldn’t haveconfided in one. How many have you told your deepest secrets?”
She always spoke directly, and yet she’d managed to thread an undercurrent of disappointment in the ones just uttered. As though she knew he’d once viewed servants in the same manner he did a pair of well-made boots: to serve him. Not one of his finer qualities. He’d certainly never take household staff for granted again, should he ever be in a position to offer employment. “It stands to reason then that he wouldn’t have confided in you.”
“I never would have allowed myself to be viewed as someone to only cater to his whims. I demand respect and equal footing from those who associate with me.”
“Will you be having another?” Polly had arrived again.
“Yes,” Esme said. “One for each of us.”
After the barmaid left, Esme opened her reticule.
“I’ll pay,” he said, reaching into a pocket.
She gave him a commanding smile that fairly froze him in his place. “As I said, equal footing. My coins will be used this time.” A pocket watch was removed and set aside before she reached farther into her purse.
“You strike me as being too elegant for a pocket watch, especially one that appears to be made of nickel.” Gold or silver, perhaps, but not something as cheap as nickel.
She looked up at him, over at the watch, closed her fingers around it, and slipped it back home before setting coins where it had been. “It was my father’s. I carry it with me for sentimental reasons.”
