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He’d watched her while she was at his place the last time. While she’d been concentrating on the papers before her, he had been doing the same thing, but on her.
Phillip had cataloged every nuance he could to play later in his mind. When she wasn’t there any longer, and nor was her scent.
He’d memorized the way her thick lashes curved up from her eyes, framing them in a sultry manner. How she grabbed the lower left corner of her lip in her teeth as she concentrated. All of it, including the tiny mole below the outside edge of her right eye. There were scars on her and he wanted to know what had happened.
Slowing his mount as he came upon more people milling around the street, he tipped his hat and responded to those calling out to him. Once he reached the tavern, he hopped from the saddle and handed off his mount to a small boy waiting to take him.
Before the kid could go far, he flipped him a coin. Then he strode inside. Definitely not White’s back in London. But also not the dingiest place he’d ever gotten a drink.
Once he’d claimed a table and had a mug before him, he stretched out his legs and took a look at the people around him. Mostly white men, but there were some of darker skin tone. All of the women in there flirted with everyone in hopes of more money or perhaps a trip upstairs for even more blunt.
He had no intention of taking any of them up on it and waved away any and all advances.
“Lord Edais.”
He glanced up to see Albie Caulfield walking toward him, a smile that was as real as any snake’s plastered on his face.
“Mr. Caulfield.” He gestured at the chair across from him.
“Thank you, my lord.” Albie took the seat and pulled off his gloves.
Phillip didn’t rush any conversation. He’d learned a long time ago if you sit there quietly and wait, people will show their hand. Eventually.
And he’d learned to be patient.
Albie licked his lips and took a large drink before clasping his hands on the table. “Forgive me, my lord, if this comes across as impertinent, for I mean no disrespect.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Typically any statement starting as such is going to be impertinent.”
“It is a delicate matter I wish to speak to you on.”
“Delicate matter that you insist on speaking about inside a tavern? Where you can be assured there are any number of people listening?”
“I was not sure I would be welcome to your home.”
The barmaid returned but Phillip waved her off. He was intrigued and wanted to know what this ass was up to.
“Most are welcome to my home.”
“This is about Fyre.”
Look at that. He was capable of jealousy. Funny thing though, it wasn’t the kind he had felt when he was the outside man looking in at his friend and his relationship. This was bone-deep, primitive and proprietary. Phillip despised hearing that man speak Fyre’s name.
But one didn’t grow up in the society he had without learning to retain his composure. Giving a nod, he encouraged him to keep speaking even without saying a thing himself.
Caulfield took the silence as permission to keep running his mouth.
“I know she is working on your books and you are on her schedule. I was hoping that”—he cleared his throat—“you would be okay with an earlier time.”
Hell no!
Phillip leaned forward and pressed the tips of his fingers together. “Let me make sure I understand what you are requesting of me. You wish for me, the Earl of Edais, to change my prearranged times with the one who keeps my books because you, what, want to be her last customer of the day?”
The color of the man’s skin deepened as he flushed.
“Yes, my lord. I was hoping to be walking her home.”
His thoughts flashed to seeing the two of them in the shop. The way this man had been so close to Fyre and how she hadn’t been receptive. Yeah, he was keeping his times.
“I would not be able to help you with that, Mr. Caulfield. Perhaps you will have to find time to court her outside of working hours.”
Anger flashed in the man’s gaze but his smile never slipped. “I figured I would ask. Perhaps I will change the dates.”
Over my dead body. Or is that going to be over yours?
He shrugged like he didn’t have a care in the world. After all, what could this man, not even close to his personal status, offer her that Phillip himself couldn’t? Plus, he knew she was attracted to him, not Albie.
Does not change a thing. I still want to punch him in the face.
Phillip finished off his drink and rose. “Was there anything else?”
The man shook his head. “No, my lord. Thank you for your time.”
