He was a “voracious planner,” after all. One adept at “adapting to the circumstances”—even if those circumstances lent themselves to a sham seduction!
How dare he, in one breath, claim he hadn’t seduced her for the sake of his new club, then begin his renovations the next? Tradesmen, good ones, took their own sweet time getting to your job unless you paid them a premium. Which—knowing Galahad’s single-minded determination to get his new den of iniquity up and running as soon as possible—he had. By the smart look of Evans & Sons’ fancy painted carts and plentiful workforce, he had engaged the sort of trades that had been so far out of the orphanage’s league, it was galling.
It was all galling.
Mallory’s flagrant dishonesty and greed.
Galahad’s manipulative, convincing, and self-serving lies.
His shameless seduction to soften her up.
Her pathetic response to his charming façade and practiced kisses.
Her eagerness to drop the battlements around her heart and let him ride roughshod all over it on the back of one of those kisses.
That disgusted her most of all because her being such a gullible idiot was history repeating itself.
“Miss Merriwell.” Tommy Claypole poked his head around the door. “The classroom is all set up for this morning’s lessons.” It was galling too that Galahad’s advice about using the boy’s focus toward good rather than evil had paid dividends. The moment she had given him extra responsibility, and by default some extra attention, Tommy had proved himself to be a most reliable lieutenant.
“Do you want me to find a hackney to take us to Ackermann’s?”
Today, because she had faithfully promised the children that this afternoon’s schooling would be entirely given over to drawing, his mission was to help her spend some of Mrs. Leyton-Brown’s bequest on art materials. Paints, chalks, and decent paper were a luxury the orphanage could rarely afford, and all the children were so excited at the prospect, it had been palpable when she had informed them of it before she had left last night.
“I’ll flag one down while you put your coat on, Tommy.” It was, it would seem, a timely outing seeing as this morning, thanks to the impending arrival of their new roof, Galahad was being hailed as a saint. “That is if you still do not mind covering my lessons this morning, Reverend?”
Still beaming at the orphanage’s apparent good fortune, the overly trusting vicar waved her away. “Why on earth would I mind teaching the fascinating subject of mathematics? Especially as I shall be spared the chore of teaching it to the disruptive young Mr. Claypole here?”
Tommy grinned unoffended, as delighted to be missing a lesson on subtraction as he was to be the one chosen to accompany her to the shops. “I’ll go chivy everyone from the breakfast room for their dull day of learning before I fetch my coat.” Off he went, and the reverend smiled, impressed.
“You finally have that young ruffian eating out of your hand.”
“For now I do—but you know Tommy.”
Annoyed that she had allowed the tradesmen to unsettle her when she was doing her best not to think about Galahad or his business at all now that he was dead to her, Vee yanked her coat from the peg. She was still buttoning it against the cold when she stepped outside, but was too busy spying on the workmen to notice that their paymaster had also arrived.
“Hello, Venus.”
Because standing like a startled deer or dashing inside like a frightened one were not options as far as her severely wounded pride was concerned, Vee turned stony-faced so that she could acknowledgehim with a frown. Without pausing, she marched onward, doing her best impression of a woman too busy searching for a hackney to give him the time of day. “Galahad.”
“You look… well.”
She responded to that with a curt nod toward his hired help as a second Evans & Sons cart trundled behind the first. This one was stacked high with roof tiles made of shiny black slate.
Drat him.
“I see you wasted no time marking your territory and makingourplace your own. But I suppose it was all booked and planned well in advance, as you are such an opportunisticforward planner.”
He sighed as if worn down by all her cynicism. “I’d explain the suddenness of Mr. Evans’s arrival, but will save us both the effort of telling you that his previous job canceled at the last minute as I know the truth would only fall on deaf ears if it came from me.”
“That is most thoughtful of you, as I am not in the mood for more lies.” Because fate was on her side, a hackney appeared, and she hailed it. When the driver slowed beside her, she told him the destination then offered Galahad her most insincere and clipped dismissal. “I shall bid you a good day.” So good she hoped his buildings were riddled with woodworm and dry rot.
“I’m guessing there’s no chance of attempting civility, despite us being neighbors and therefore stuck with each other for the foreseeable future.”
“We tried civility. It failed.” Thankfully, Vee heard Tommy behind and turned to her charge as a means of escape. “Get in the carriage, Tommy.”
“’Ello, Mr. Sinclair.” Tommy doffed his cap instead. “What brings you ’ere?”
Galahad pointed to his buildings. “These. All three are now mine.” His eyes bored into hers as he said this, entirely unrepentant now.
