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“Have you a fellow at home?”
“Oh, no.No.” When Imogen raised her eyebrows—she was probably questioning the vehemence with which Cara had issued thatNo—Cara added, “I live with my parents.”
“It would seem to me the solution to that is to select a man whodoesn’tlive withhisparents.”
Cara chuckled. “Yeah, I know, but there’s also the part where I don’t have time for a boyfriend—or the desire for one. I’m married to my job. Happily married. But...” She looked around to make sure no one was listening, though she wasn’t sure why. Imogen, sensing a secret about to be dispensed, leaned in. “I travel a lot for work, and I do look forward, on my trips, to occasionally...” She raised her eyebrows and waved a hand around.
Imogen cracked up but played dumb, pasting on a teasingly innocent expression. “To what?”
Cara ignored the question. “But not on this trip. I can’t ‘entertain’ any visitors in the palace, if you know what I mean.”
Imogen was back to laughing. “Yes, I see your dilemma.”
“Also, I’ve noticed that there don’t seem to be a lot of locals on the apps—I had a look out of curiosity. So if you know anyone here who, as you say, doesn’t live with his parents...” Cara winked to show she was kidding. Which she was. Mostly. But, damn, she really had the itch this week. It had been a long time.
Imogen had glanced down the bar again, and Kai must have felt her attention. He looked right up at her. After a beat, he transferred his attention to Cara and gave a curt nod. She gave a little wave.
“Not him,” Imogen said quickly.
Message received. Cara’s itch scratching was meant to be low-conflict. She wasn’t wading into these troubled waters.
“He’s not worth the drama,” Imogen added with a breeziness that struck Cara as put-on.
“Got it,” Cara said, though Kai seemed about as low-drama as they came, considering that he basically never spoke.
“I know everyone in the village. I’ll arrange something.”
“You’llarrangesomething! What does that mean? I don’t need you to set up a sexual assignation for me!”
“Not a sexual assignation. Just a regular assignation. What you do with it is up to you.” With a wink, Imogen was off to serve another customer.
When Matteo arrived at Imogen’s, he spied Ms. Delaney sitting at the bar. Which was good. She was the reason he was here. They had matters to discuss. They hadn’t spoken since dinner Monday night, but it was Thursday and they had to be at the factory in Riems tomorrow morning.
He eyed her. She was in her uniform: gray pantsuit with white blouse, hair in its ever-present chignon. He could see her dark-red nails from here, clutching a glass of water.
Even though he’d come here looking for her, he was unsure about how to approach. He felt sheepish about his behavior Monday, and sheepish was not a feeling with which he was familiar. It was not a feeling he enjoyed.
What had come over him, lecturing her aboutPride and Prejudice? He had accused her of picking a fight with him, but the nextmorning he’d had to ask himself if the reverse wasn’t true. Or at least if they weren’t jointly guilty. He’d awakened Tuesday feeling almost as if he had a hangover. Not physically, but he’d had that morning-after sense of dread, of being unsure if he had comported himself honorably. Not that he had a great deal of experience with that feeling. He’d only been drunk enough to be hungover the next day a handful of times in his life.
When one’s father gambles away one’s entire life, one is very careful about potentially addictive behaviors.
He had come to the conclusion that even if they were jointly at fault, he needed to apologize to Ms. Delaney for the way he’d spoken. He just... hadn’t had a chance to yet.
Well, no, that was a lie. He’d known her schedule this week, and he could have intercepted her at any time. At least, he’d known about her official meetings. He scanned the bar and was relieved to see Kai at one end of it, far from Ms. Delaney. Of course, he cared if she and Kai became entangled only to the extent that he preferred she not leave any more wreckage in her wake than necessary. Who was going to be on cleanup duty when it came to that wreckage?
“Ms. Delaney,” he said as he came to a stop next to her. “I was beginning to wonder if you subsisted on air alone.”
She turned to him with her fork paused halfway to her mouth. He’d startled her. He watched her register him, and her surprise was replaced by a flash of annoyance she quickly tamped down. “I’m sorry?”
“I never see you eat.” Matteo regretted the observation the moment it was out. It sounded like he was watching her closely.Which he was. But only because that was his job. He considered elaborating, but saying, “I watched you not eat two breakfasts the other morning” was not going to help matters.
“Oh, I eat.” She nodded down at her plate, which contained whatever was today’s savory pie and a generous portion of salad. She also had a side plate of chips. “I have a bad habit of getting distracted by work, not eating all day, and realizing in the evening that I’m ravenous.”
He pulled out the stool next to her. “I thought we might discuss tomorrow’s trip to Riems. It’s a two-hour drive. Building in a bit of a cushion, I think we ought to leave around six o’clock if that suits?”
“That’s fine. But I’m quite happy to go on my own. As you yourself have pointed out, Herr Walmsley is a more-than-competent driver. You don’t need to make the trip with me.”
“Oh, I’m quite happy to accompany you,” he said, lying through his teeth.
