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“Ah.” Mr. Cunningham rose from his chair. “Forgive me. That is to say...” The man grimaced. Deep-set eyes sat behind wire-framed glasses, filled with regret. He patted a hand across his sandy hair then down his waistcoat—his palms no doubt as clammy as his upper lip. “Your father was no fool with money despite everything...” Mr. Cunningham’s cheeks reddened.
“My father lived rather too much like Icarus as we both know.”
And got burned for it.
“You could afford to take a few extra risks, my lord. The estate is in fine shape these days. You could see a return—”
Luke held up a hand. If he never had to hear the wordreturnagain, he would be happy. Ambition had left his father dissatisfied with life and Luke refused to follow in his footsteps.
“We shall keep things as they are. We have enough to look after the family and the estate’s dependents. We do not need more.”
Mr. Cunningham tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his upper lip. “Of course, my lord. But if you do change your mind, I have an excellent opportunity—”
“Good day, Mr. Cunningham.” Luke left the office just as another line of sweat blossomed on the man’s lip.
Excellent opportunity or not, he had no interest in hearing it. All it took is one wrong move and it would all collapse—his siblings’ income, the livelihood of hundreds, the houses that had been handed down generation to generation. For the most part, he did not dwell on the enormity of it sitting on his shoulders but meetings with Mr. Cunningham always reminded him of his father and his tragic end.
They had enough. His life was enough. He would never make the mistake of wanting more.
He stilled at the top step of the building and eyed the flow of people strolling along the fashionable Piccadilly. His carriage had vanished from its spot in front of the building. He’d have to walk in search of it.
A boy thrust newspapers in the direction of every passer-by and Luke narrowed his gaze at the sketch of a building on the back.
“I’ll take one.” He handed the boy a coin and flipped over the newspaper. He scanned the picture then the words beneath it.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered.
He’d avoided Cassie for over a week since the carriage incident. Since he had come far, far too close to breaking his one rule. If he kissed Cassie, he would certainly be guilty of wanting more. But, damn, that had been about the hardest thing he’d ever done. Seeing her crestfallen expression as he declined her still acted like a punch to the gut.
Of course, she had likely forgotten it by now. Especially considering she had been busy doing other things, it seemed. The article reported on a break in at a solicitors. More specifically, the solicitors near where he had rescued Cassie from. He didn’t believe in coincidences.
So much for his hope he could keep his distance and she might behave after her contrite behavior.
Easing out a breath, he continued down the street with haste until he found his carriage on the corner of a quieter road. “Sorry, my lord,” his driver said. “Traffic was too busy, and we had to move on.”
Luke waved away the apology. “To Pall Mall.”
The journey took longer than he’d hoped, and he likely should have walked it. The busy London streets offered no concession to a man in a hurry. By the time he reached the duke’s house, he’d conjured a hundred reasons why he should not go to Cassie. But one reason he should lingered—he’d promised Anton—and he never went back on his promises.
Guildbury Hall occupied a large corner of Pall Mall. Wrought iron gates kept the house set back from the road with elegant gardens offering peaceful respite from the clogged roads. His driver took the carriage around the rear of the house while he marched swiftly down the long path to the sandy-colored building. The housekeeper ushered him in swiftly after he offered his card but his surprise at being allowed entry by Cassie was quickly diminished when he found Aunt Sarah in the drawing room. Alone.
“Cassie and her sisters are gone for tea,” Aunt Sarah said. “I’m not certain when they shall return.”
“Any idea where?”
Aunt Sarah’s bright blue eyes twinkled. She dropped onto the nearest sofa and tugged her loyal gray cat onto her lap. The animal’s mildly annoyed expression quickly diminished when she started to fuss the creature. “Hunting her down, are we?”
“I merely need a word, Aunt Sarah.”
“But words are so dull. A girl like Cassie would much prefer action.”
Luke was not prone to blushing like a blasted woman, but he swore his cheeks heated. He cleared his throat. “Cassie would do with partaking in less action, I suspect, if she is to stay out of trouble.”
“I have little idea to what you are referring.” She grinned and Luke narrowed his gaze at her. It seemed even Aunt Sarah knew Cassie had broken into that building.
But why?
“Perhaps you can tell her I called for her and I shall be seeking a word with her soon.”
