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Elizabeth smiled nervously at him, letting her hand slip into her bag, just to reassure herself that the book was really there, hidden safely out of sight. If she was caught reading such a thing, she’d be mortified beyond words. It was a given that all unmarried women were looking for a husband, but only the most pathetic of females would actually be caught reading a manual on the subject.
He didn’t say anything, just looked her over in an assessing sort of way that made her even more nervous. Finally she blurted out, “Are you the new estate manager?”
“Yes.”
“I see.” She cleared her throat. “Well, then I suppose I ought to introduce myself, as I’m sure our paths will cross. I am Miss Hotchkiss, Lady Danbury’s companion.”
“Ah. I am Mr. Siddons, recently of London.”
“It was very nice meeting you, Mr. Siddons,” she said with a smile that James found oddly engaging. “Terribly sorry about the accident, but I must be off.”
She waited for his acknowledging nod, then dashed off down the drive, clutching her bag as if her very life depended on it.
James just stared as she ran off, strangely unable to take his eyes off of her retreating form.
Chapter 2
“James!” Agatha Danbury didn’t often squeal, but James was her favorite nephew. Truth be told, she probably liked him better than any of her own children. He, at least, was smart enough not to stick his head between iron fence beams. “How lovely to see you!”
James dutifully bent down and offered his cheek for a kiss. “How lovely to see me?” he queried. “You almost sound surprised by my arrival. Come, now, you know I could no more ignore your summons than one sent by the Prince Regent himself.”
“Oh, that.”
He narrowed his eyes at her dismissive response. “Agatha, you’re not playing games with me, are you?”
Her posture suddenly became ramrod straight in her chair. “You would think that of me?”
&nb
sp; “In a heartbeat,” he said with an easy smile as he sat down. “I learned all my best tricks from you.”
“Yes, well, someone had to take you under her wing,” she replied. “Poor child. If I hadn’t—”
“Agatha,” James said sharply. He had no wish to involve himself in a discussion of his childhood. He owed his aunt everything—his very soul, even. But he didn’t want to get into this now.
“As it happens,” she said with a disdainful sniff, “I am not playing games. I am being blackmailed.”
James leaned forward. Blackmailed? Agatha was a crafty old thing, but proper as anything, and he couldn’t imagine her having done anything that might warrant blackmail.
“Can you even fathom it?” she demanded. “That someone would dare to blackmail me? Hmmph. Where is my cat?”
“Where is your cat?” he echoed.
“Mallllllllllllcolmmmmmmm!”
James blinked and watched as a monstrously obese feline padded into the room. He walked over to James, sniffed, and hopped up onto his lap.
“Isn’t he just the friendliest cat?” Agatha asked.
“I hate cats.”
“You’ll love Malcolm.”
He decided that tolerating the cat was easier than arguing with his aunt. “Do you have any idea who your blackmailer might be?”
“None.”
“May I ask why you are being blackmailed?”
