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“Says the gambling club owner,” the duke retorted calmly.
Hartley looked at Arthur with unabashed curiosity. “You are the Mr. Barrow of The White Heather?”
“I am, indeed.”
“It seems your reputation proceeds you, Barrow, even in London,” Amberwood remarked playfully, no doubt sensing his supreme annoyance at the change in topic.
“I visit London from time to time for personal business,” Hartley replied, seeming more intrigued than scandalized. “So, I have naturally heard of the infamous hall. How fascinating to have its owner right in front of me.”
The topic of the earldom was entirely derailed as the doctor peppered him with questions about the White Heather and its operations. Forever proud of the grand business he had built, Arthur normally relished the opportunity to talk at length about it. Though he was still happy to share his pride and joy, the loss of any further gossip concerning Renwood was frustrating enough to put him in a dour mood by the end of the meal. Somehow, he was going to have to contrive a way to visit the estate himself without giving his true identity away. The thought of being forced in the company of the rest of the Tremore family was enough to sour the wine in his mouth.
Chapter Five
“Are you sure you should be walking so much?” Sophie inquired with worry as Francesca closed the door to her room.
Francesca turned to face her. “My ankle hardly hurts anymore.” After a good three days of resting in her chambers, Francesca was going rather stir-crazy. Though Kitty and Sophie provided excellent company when they were able, she was ready for some air. The weather today was brilliant, with a cloudless sky and warm temperature, and perfect for a good walk. Francesca was rather done with playing the invalid and longed to resume her enjoyment of the countryside and its offerings.
Even if those offerings now came with the caveat of one Arthur Barrow’s presence.
If there was one benefit to be had from her mild injury and subsequent two-day seclusion, it was her ability to distract herself from that scandalous ride and pretend that the man was occupying far too many of her thoughts had merely been a mirage.
“I can handle myself,” she said aloud, squaring her shoulders and walking down the hall.
“I’m sure you can,” Sophie replied kindly as she fell into step beside her. “But please, do not overestimate your abilities.”
“I won’t,” Francesca declared, even if Sophie didn’t know that the sprained ankle had long ceased to be the topic of their conversation. They reached the breakfast room, and Francesca paused outside the door. Jasper’s jovial laughter sounded from within, followed by a muted and chastising voice.
His voice.
Francesca swallowed, determined not to let his presence befuddle her in front of everyone else.
“Are you alright?” Sophie asked from behind.
“Perfectly fine,” Francesca replied with nary a quaver in her voice. Without further hesitation, she entered the breakfast room. Jasper and Mr. Barrow were dining alone at one end of the table, the latter’s eyes immediately raising to view her. She boldly met his gaze even as the sly smile he sent her way sent a warm tingle down her spine.
“Good morning, Lady Amberwood, Lady Francesca,” he greeted with a cordial nod, as if the mere sight of him wasn’t sending her brain haywire.
She took a deep breath and put on her most sunny smile. “Good morning, Mr. Barrow, Jasper.” Francesca was rather proud of how serenely she made her way to the sideboard and fill her plate.
“Have Kitty and His Grace not come down yet?” Sophie asked.
“Ashford popped in to say she was doing poorly this morning before he procured a small plate for her and left,” Jasper replied.
“I hope she is alright.” Francesca took a seat, keeping her eyes on her plate and ignoring Barrow’s gaze from across the table.
“I think I will check on her and see if the doctor needs to be called again,” Sophie said, a twinge of worry in her voice.
“Leaving me already, darling?” Jasper replied playfully.
“We were together a scant hour ago, you silly man.” Sophie rolled her eyes and kissed Jasper’s cheek. “Besides, you need to talk to Mr. Feilding about the sheep this morning, remember?”
“By God, you are right. I completely forgot.” Jasper took a hearty swallow of his tea and rose. He gave Francesca a teasing grin, his emerald eyes filling with mischief. “Do entertain Barrow here while I am gone, and by that, I mean try not to run him off the estate with one of your raucous rows.” He turned to Barrow. “And don’t goad her, as I know you enjoy doing.”
“I promise to be on my best behavior,” Barrow answered solemnly.
“You certainly better,” Francesca replied calmly, if only to hide the hammering of her heart at the thought of being alone with him so soon. Which was ridiculous. They were in the middle of breakfast, for goodness’ sake. It wasn’t as if he would just walk over and kiss her again in the middle of the dining room.
“Now, now,” Jasper chided. “What did I just say?”
