‘I assumed that was a given, Aphrodite.’
After a quick check to confirm Charity was nowhere in sight, Hope happily threaded her hand through his elbow and allowed him to lead her to the open French doors on to the terrace and freedom. They weren’t the only people escaping the crush inside, so when they couldn’t find any peace to discuss anything properly beyond small talk, in silent tacit agreement they edged towards the gate in the back hedge and escaped out into the communal garden beyond when nobody was looking. Unsurprisingly, for ten o’clock in the evening, it was deserted. Certainly quiet enough that she could finally ask about his sister-in-law.
‘What got your dander up the other night at the theatre?’
‘Nothing...’ He huffed out a groan. ‘Everything.’
‘Did the Marchioness put a flea in your ear?’ Because Hope hadn’t been able to stop herself watching the pair of them tucked away in that alcove. The strange intimacy between them had bothered her. She wasn’t prepared to call it jealousy, though suspected it might well be as she had experienced a pang of something akin to it when she watched him touch the woman affectionately. ‘She seemed upset.’ Or at least the vile woman had done a very good job of looking suitably tragic once she had cornered him alone, though those tears had dried remarkably fast in Hope’s humble opinion. Doubtless because she had got her way.
‘She did more than put a flea in my ear. She deposited another ton of unwanted responsibilities on my shoulders.’ For a moment his eyes were bleak before he shook it away with a theatrical shiver. ‘But as you know, I have attractively broad shoulders.’ Like her, Luke was the master of changing the subject when the topic wasn’t to his liking. ‘In other exciting news, not only have the decorators finally gone but I have almost managed to dig my way to the bottom of the never-ending mountain of papers I inherited.’
‘Do you understand it all?’ Because she knew it bothered him that he didn’t. After his brother’s shoddy treatment of him, he was a man who had to be in control of his own destiny, even if that meant burning the candle at both ends, though he preferred to make light of that diligent aspect of his character too.
‘I have a solid grasp on the estate matters as they aren’t too different from running my house in Cornwall—just on a grander scale. And I am pretty sure I finally understand the property aspect.’ Of course he did, because as well as wading into Parliament as if he had always been part of it, he had spent the last fortnight visiting every street in the city that he owned bricks on so he could familiarise himself with each one. ‘But the stocks and shares still baffle me. The Thundersley finger seems to be dipped in all manner of pies but I am yet to ascertain their fillings to decide if I want to keep them. I blame the names. They should be more explicit and give clues to the nature of the business rather than rely on pointless surnames which ultimately mean nothing to the consumer. If everybody used something sensible like Tregally Slate I wouldn’t be so confused.’
But they both knew he wouldn’t remain that way for long. As if he read her mind, he shrugged.
‘I’ve set the supercilious and condescending Mr Waterhouse the herculean task of writing me a detailed summary of each and every company I hold a share in as I won’t be party to any unsavoury money-making ventures or any that think they can get away with not paying their workers a decent wage for an honest day’s work.’ She liked that about him. He never settled for anything he didn’t want and fought tooth and nail for what he believed was right. She almost pitied Mr Waterhouse, who was clearly a fool if he did not realise that his new master was a formidable, driven and principled man not an arrogant, abdicating fop like his brother.
‘How did he take that?’
‘Surprisingly well, as he is currently bending over backwards to impress me. It is amazing how agreeable even the most disagreeable individuals can be when they are subjected to the legendary Duff charm...your good self included.’
As he was now subjecting her to the seductive power of his most wolfish expression, those naughty dark brown eyes twinkling, she refused to take the bait. ‘He is falling all over himself purely because you pay his wages. Deep down he dislikes you as much as everyone else does—my good self included.’
‘And believe me, he gets paid handsomely too. Can you fathom that he gets five times what I pay my best manager at Tregally? I swear the cost of everything here is so extortionate it’s criminal. Did I tell you I had to pay fifty pounds and eight shillings for a sofa! And I knocked the swindler down! He originally wanted sixty.’ He looked quite ferocious when outraged, even though she knew without a doubt Luke didn’t truly have a ferocious bone in his body. He would have made an atrocious pirate. Although, to be fair, he probably wouldn’t have had to plunder and pillage because he would have thoroughly charmed his unwitting targets out of their booty instead. He had a talent for disarming people. ‘But at least the room is finally finished. Would you like to see it?’
‘What? Just me and you? All alone in the dark. In a bachelor’s house! Unchaperoned? Do you want my mother to kill you?’
‘In case you haven’t noticed, we are all alone in the dark unchaperoned already and as we never have a chaperon on the balcony, I fail to see what difference it makes.’ But from the suddenly wicked glint in his eye, he was well aware why she wouldn’t dare take him up on the offer. Here, with the sounds of her mother’s soirée invading the silence, they weren’t really alone in the truest sense of the word and on the balcony, the double sets of railings were their strict chaperons.
‘You are incorrigible.’
‘That I am, Hope—but you like me for it.’
‘In your dreams perhaps.’
He smiled, unoffended. ‘Enough about my woes. How go things with your monster?’
She considered lying, but knew it wouldn’t wash. ‘The jig is up, he has received his well-deserved comeuppance and the book is finally done.’
He stopped walking and beamed at her. ‘That’s splendid news! Are you happy with it?’
‘I have come to the conclusion that I am too much of a nit-picking perfectionist to ever be truly happy with it, but I am happy enough that I’ve spent the last few days making copies to send out to other publishers.’
His face clouded with instant sympathy. ‘Crocker and Co. rejected it?’
‘Cooper and Son have remained depressingly silent.’
‘It has only been a few weeks. I’ll wager they’ll have made an offer by the time I get back from Cornwall, but you are wise to spread your net wider. It is never advisable to have all your eggs in one basket.’ Then his feet paused again. ‘And speaking of Cornwall and the jig being up, does this mean I can finally read it? I am going to need something to keep me sane during my interminable and solitary journey to the south west.’
Flapping butterflies instantly invaded her stomach and swiftly turned into gulls. ‘I am afraid I still need the original to make the copies.’
‘But you promised.’ Two dark brows kissed in consternation a split second before he crossed his solid arms and glared. ‘And if I know you, madam, like I know I do, you have already made at least one full copy and are merely making excuses to fob me off again.’
Hope tried not to wince at the accuracy of the charge but it was too late. She wasn’t bland enough, quick enough, and he saw it.
‘I knew it! You have a copy raring to go and have probably already earmarked it for the next publisher on your list.’
