Page 28 of The Devil to Pay

She turned then, regarding him with a frown. “Why should you care a button what I think? I’m nobody. A faded spinster lady, the kind who will grow old dependent on her siblings’ generosity, no doubt. No one listens to me.”

Jules gave an indignant bark of laughter. “Everyone listens to you!” he exclaimed in outrage. “You say jump, and everyone demands, how high?”

Davenport flushed and put up her chin. “Here, perhaps, because there is no one else to take charge, and I might have known I should be disparaged for that,” she added with a bitter laugh.

“Not by me!” he objected strenuously. “This place would run to wrack and ruin if not for you. You’ve taken the job on and made it your own, and done it magnificently, too. Your father ought to weep with gratitude for everything you’ve done. Your brother too, if he’s to inherit everything you’ve created here.”

She flushed a darker shade, glaring at him suspiciously.

“I mean it!” he added, before she could speak. “I’m not flattering you to get myself out of trouble, I swear it. You’ll do as you think fit, but I need to explain. If you would only listen for a moment.”

Davenport looked at him, suspicion in her eyes, but she made a dismissive go on gesture and Jules steeled himself to be honest with the one woman he did not wish to know what a fool he was.

“I’ve made a mess of a lot of things in my life, Davenport, but I thought I could write. I knew that last book wasn’t my best work, but the publisher was clamouring for it and… and I didn’t know how to fix the problems. I ought to have tried harder, but I gave up, and then you called out every single thing I was worried about having got wrong and… and it poked at a sore spot. Your words were fair, perhaps, but cutting. They hurt, but I’m a big boy. I ought to have taken it on the chin and moved on. But as I’ve been reminded several times of late, I’m rather spoiled and used to getting my own way, so retaliation seemed like a more inviting prospect.”

“Rather spoiled,” she repeated, quirking one burnished eyebrow at him.

He gave a wry laugh. “Oh, very well. I’m thoroughly spoiled. A good-for-nothing gentleman with soft hands who’s never done a day’s work in his life. Does that fit me better?”

Her lips twitched slightly, which he hoped was an encouraging sign. “Well, you certainly paid for your revenge,” she said, gesturing to the bandage on his hand.

Jules raised it and returned a rueful smile. “In blood, sweat, and few tears too if you listen to Briggs. A fitting punishment in the circumstances, but at least I’ve gained a better insight into the life of a working man. That was what you wanted me to do, was it not?”

She nodded, regarding him with interest now. “I had no idea you would even read that review, let alone care, but did you not read all the bits where I said how wonderful it was? How much I enjoyed it?”

Jules shrugged. “It seemed like faint praise compared to the criticism, but I may have taken it a little too much to heart.”

“A little!” she exclaimed, shaking her head at him.

“Pax, Davenport,” he said, holding out his hand to her. “I’ve no intention of publishing a word about you or your family. The truth is, I admire everything you’ve done here, and I feel like a complete arse for having invaded your privacy in such a way. If you want me to leave, I shall do so at once, but if you would like me to stay and finish this library as penance, I would be happy to oblige. By myself, if you’d rather it that way. Though I’d like to carry on with you. Much as I wanted to loathe you, I’m afraid I’ve rather enjoyed myself. I’d like to speak more to you about books and writing,” he added, hoping that might pique her interest.

“Your writing?” she asked, narrowing her eyes, but he knew he had her.

Jules made a show of considering her words, trying not to smile at the eagerness he heard in her voice.

“Well, perhaps,” he said grudgingly. “If you promise to be gentle and not make me cry.”

She frowned at that, perhaps reading the serious note behind the frivolous words. “I am too forthright,” she admitted, a tinge of colour coming back into her cheeks that clashed with her fiery hair. “I know I am, but I speak without thinking and—”

“You are not too forthright,” he insisted. “You’re just used to everyone looking to you and needing an answer. You have the voice of command. Believe me, I know it when I hear it,” he added dryly.

Her eyebrows tugged together, a look of mingled chagrin and mortification on her expressive features. “But I was far too critical, I know I was. To own the truth, I regretted having been quite so blunt, only the book was so close to being really spectacular, but it fell flat now and then, and I was so frustrated with you for falling short of your best.”

“Show me.”

She looked up at him, scepticism in her expression.

“Well, here’s your chance to tell me where I went wrong,” he said, a challenging note to his voice. “Aren’t you going to take it?”

She hesitated for a bare second before taking the bait and Jules experienced a little burst of triumph as she nodded resolutely. “Very well. I shall.”

“Where is it then?” he asked warily, for it hadn’t been with his other work. He pointed at the pile of books, which was the only one that rivalled the gardening and botanical pile for size. “Novels are there, but it is not under A, for anonymous. What have you done with it, Davenport? Is it buried in a hole somewhere and stuck all over with pins?” he asked, daring to see if she could take a bit of teasing.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, yes, I’d pay the exorbitant price of one of your leather-bound copies and then do that to it,” she returned tartly. “It’s in my private parlour,” she added, and hurried to fetch it.

Jules preened a little at this information, deciding he’d best make the most of it, for he suspected the following hour or so was going to be hard on his ego.

He wasn’t wrong.