“Er…no, I didn’t.” Obviously. Good gracious. She strode past him to go to her bedroom.
He went after her. The cheek of him. “What were you doing in Mr. Wellington’s bedroom?” He sounded like a jealous husband.
“I don’t think it concerns you,” she said, confused by the whole situation.
The way his face contorted in shock, surprise, or anger puzzled her. Why did he care about what she did?
“I demand to know why you weren’t in your room.” His tone was firm.
She was taken aback. “I beg your pardon. I don’t have to inform you of my movements. Not even my husband demands to know what I did or didn’t do. I don’t believe I owe you an explanation.”
“Your husband might be negligent, but I want to know what you were doing in Mr Wellington’s room right this instant.” His voice rose.
“Lasciami in pace,” she said in Italian.Leave me alone. She spun and marched to her bedroom before he could say anything.
The moment she shut the door behind her, a crushing wave of regret weighed on her chest. She should have answered, made up a story. She’d been rather rude to the count, not addressing him with the Italian ‘thou.’ When Keith had lost his temper, she’d scolded him, but she’d done the same thing. She hadn’t helped Keith’s cause in the least. Quite the opposite. Curse her stupid mouth.
She plonked down onto the bed. If the deal with the count was lost, it’d be because of her temper.
Keith bracedhimself for bad news. The count had summoned him to his study in all urgency, thundering and shaking, and judging by his scowl, he didn’t have good news to share. He had no idea what had happened or where Violante was. Keith had seen her talking to Paul, and he’d left them some privacy.
“Is something the matter?” Keith asked, closing the door to the count’s study.
“Yes,” the count snapped. He shoved his chair back and sat down. “I’m afraid I can’t do business with you.”
Keith sucked in a deep breath. He’d suspected that much, but to hear it in such an angry tone hurt him. “Why?”
The count pointed a finger in the direction of Keith’s bedroom. “Your wife is having a tryst with your associate. Wellington isn’t your friend, and I don’t want to risk my reputation and money in a business that might prove to be a huge moral mistake. I trust you, Ashford, although I have no respect for a man who doesn’t understand his wife is being unfaithful to him. I don’t trust Wellington. He might stab you in the back at any moment, and I won’t get involved in this sordid affair of assignations and trysts.”
Of all the reasons the count could have picked for not making the deal, that one was the wrong one. No respect for a man who didn’t understand his wife was betraying him? He was one to talk.
Keith bit down the comment. “What sordid affair? I promise you that Paul and my wife are not lovers.”
“Twice, I caught them alone in an intimate conversation. There was an exchange of money as well. I saw it with my own eyes. She was in his bedroom while he stood there half naked.”
Keith released a breath that sounded like a hiss. “They’ve known each other since childhood and have personal problems they need to discuss, but they arenotlovers.”
The count shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t like this degrading situation. Your project is a good one, Ashford. Your company isn’t.”
“This is unfair.”
“Your wife betrays you right under your nose with your friend. If you can’t detect that, what else are you going to miss? Also, your wife behaved rather rudely to me.” The count huffed with all the outrage of a wronged aristocrat. “I caught herin flagrante delicto, and she had the audacity to tell me that her business didn’t concern me. Put a leash on her, for heaven’s sake. Do your job as a husband and control her. If you can’t control your wife, how can you control your company?”
“What?” Keith leant back in shock. “I won’t allow you to disparage my wife in my presence. My wife isn’t having any affairs, and if she was rude to you, she must have had a bloody good reason. I approve of everything she does. I’d rather cut my left bollock than put aleashon her.”
The count lifted his chin. “Your wife is a disgraceful harlot who makes fun of you.”
Keith slapped the count’s cheek with the back of his hand. “I demand satisfaction.”
The count’s nostrils flared. His hair was dishevelled by the slap. “Very well.”
“Choose your weapon.”
“The sword. Sir Nigel will be my second.”
“Wellington will be mine.” He turned around and strode to the door but paused. “When I win, I’ll expect an apology.”
“When you lose, I’ll demand one.”
