“What—” Keith fell silent, staring at Nigel in front of him.
“A word, Keith.” Nigel slid inside the room.
No my lord, or Lord Ashford. Not even Ashford.
“Lord Ashford,” Violante said.
Nigel huffed.
What did Keith have to do to have a moment of peace? “What do you want?” If Nigel was rude, so could Keith.
Nigel shot a glare at Violante who returned the hostile stare. “I told you I was after the count’s building.”
“And I told you that so was I.” He coiled an arm around Violante’s waist and pulled her closer.
Nigel narrowed his sharp black eyes. Everything about his features was sharp. Sharp cheeks, sharp chin, and a sharp nose that looked like the dorsal fin of a shark.
“The deal is mine,” Nigel said. “You aren’t going to steal it from me as you did with my inheritance. Mark my words.”
Keith forced himself to keep his voice low. “I didn’t steal anything. Your father made a decision you disagreed with. Your problem, not mine.”
“Exactly.” Nigel strode to his bedroom without saying goodnight or bowing at Violante. Ass.
“What did he mean by that?” Violante asked when she shut the door.
“Bloody idiot.” Keith yanked at the knot of his cravat. “Sir Howard left me a share of his money. It was a complete surprise for both his family and me. I think his generosity had a lot to do with his guilt. Anyway, Nigel didn’t like it. He expects me to renounce the money and return it to him. Not bloody likely. And he wants to build a hotel. Nonsense.” He removed his jacket and waistcoat. The nerve of that man. It wasn’t his fault if Sir Howard hadn’t had a great opinion of his own son, who was a lazy worker and a vain man. Keith had worked hard for Sir Howard, and that money would go to his project. “I don’t understand the count at all.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He behaves all haughty, looking down on gentlemen who aren’t married, but apparently, he’s happy to sell his house to Nigel to build a ridiculous hotel while evicting honest people from their houses.” He unbuttoned his shirt, almost ripping the buttons. “There’s more to his choice of Nigel’s project. I want to know what it is.”
“Er, what are you doing?” Violante asked, looking petrified a few feet from him.
“What?” Damn. He was undressing in front of her. “Apologies.”
He marched behind the screen and finished changing.
“I wasn’t…never mind,” Violante said.
“What?”
“Would you unbutton me, please? I can ask Collins. I reckon she won’t complain if I call her now that she’ll receive your two hundred pounds.”
“No. I don’t want to challenge her.” He hastily slid on his dressing gown and strode to her. He wanted to help her.
She turned around. “Only the top buttons. I’ll do the rest.”
Too many emotions bothered him. There was frustration, concern, and now desire. His clumsy fingers ripped a button. “Dammit. Sorry.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll stitch it back.”
He was too agitated not to do something stupid, like kissing her neck. On impulse, he dipped his head and almost brushed a kiss over her tempting, scented skin. Hell, the temptation was strong enough to cause his abdominal muscles to contract. No, he couldn’t, shouldn’t steal a kiss in such a fashion. He might not be a lord by birth, but he considered himself a gentleman.
Likely sensing his breath on her skin, she inhaled deeply. The top of her breasts appeared from above her neckline. If she was scared or disgusted, she didn’t show it. Or maybe his judgement was impaired by his worry. Curse him. He had no idea.
“Done.” He stepped away from her and marched behind the screen again.
She might have said, “Thank you.” He wasn’t even sure of that.
