“Thank you, Wellington. I’m glad we found an agreement on that shipping. I’m sorry our time was cut short, but I must attend to my correspondence.”
“I have another project I’d like to discuss with you tomorrow,” Pauls said.
“Of course, goodnight.” The count closed the door to his study.
She waited for Paul in a dark corner. “Paul,” she said quietly when he walked past her.
He came to a quick stop in the middle of the hallway. “Violante,” he whispered, gazing around as if they were two conspirators.
She stepped out of the shadows, a little worried by the hostile expression on his face. “We need to talk.”
“Not here, for Pete’s sake. Someone might see us.” He pivoted and marched towards the other side of the hallway.
“Wait.” She grabbed his arm and tugged at it until he turned towards her. “I want what you owe me.” Short and not so sweet. Straight to the point.
He opened his mouth but closed it as the count opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
The count approached them gingerly and narrowed his gaze over her hand on Paul’s arm. “Lady Ashford. Is everything all right?”
“All is well, thank you, my lord.” She withdrew her hand. “I was saying goodnight to Mr. Wellington on my way to find my maid when I stumbled and he steadied me.”
“I heard voices,” the count said.
“I was retiring to my room.” Paul offered a shallow bow, already walking away.
“So was I. Goodnight, Mr. Wellington, my lord.”
“Goodnight.” The count kept frowning.
She hurried to her bedroom and shut the door behind her.
Keith was already there, fastening his nightshirt. “Is something the matter?” he asked before she said anything.
She removed her shoes, being careful because she didn’t want to ruin a pair of fine silk slippers. “I couldn’t talk with Paul. The count interrupted us.”
He sat on the bed. The nightshirt left naked a triangle of golden skin on his chest, and she couldn’t stop herself from noticing it.
He followed her with his gaze as she discarded her gloves and removed her earrings.
“I promised you I wouldn’t interfere, but I asked him about the money he stole,” Keith told her.
She plonked down onto the bed. Her beautiful skirt frothed around her. “Did he answer you?”
“Nigel interrupted us. If Paul refuses to talk to you, I can engage Mr. and Mrs. Beresford’s help again and trace your mother’s pendant. I mean, the money is gone, but the pendant might still be found. At least you’ll have it back.”
“You would do that for me?”
He shrugged, and his nightshirt opened on the front, revealing more of his smooth, broad chest. “Of course, I would.”
The sadness of the evening evaporated. She put her hand over his. “Thank you. You keep helping me, and I keep being horrible to you.”
“Not true.” He brushed his knuckles against her cheek with a feather touch.
A flutter started in her stomach, and the instinct to lean against his hand was too hard to resist. He cupped her cheek and caressed its curve with the rough pad of his thumb.
“I wish you only joy. You know that, don’t you?” he said, lowering his voice.
She pressed her cheek to his palm. “I do.” She had no doubt. In fact, she felt guilty for that infamous day when she’d told him to leave. She wondered if she’d ever stop feeling guilty.
