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Well, surprise, surprise. Ian thought highly of me, because I didn’t, but I also kinda sorta did, just not in the way he thought.
I must have passed his tests.
“This is a ridiculous conversation,” Richard derided. “You’re not needed here this week. You can go back to London tomorrow when Daniel and Portia return.”
“If you think I’m going to leave those women to this pack of hyenas, Dad, you’re dead, fucking wrong.”
Yes.
I was beginning to like this guy.
Damn.
“Also, please, for the love of God, let this sink in,” Ian went on. “You don’t tell me what to do anymore. You haven’t for twenty goddamn years. You never will again.”
“Would that I could break the covenants,” Richard taunted in an ugly voice.
I clapped both hands over my mouth.
Because…
The covenants?
That had to be…what?
What determined the succession of the earldom?
Richard was saying to his son’s face that he didn’t want him to inherit what was rightfully his.
Sure, it was by luck of the birth order.
It was still Ian’s.
“Well, you can’t,” Ian returned. “But go for it. I could buy Duncroft twice and not blink.”
“No one likes a braggart, Ian.”
“You missed my point, Dad. I don’t need the fucking title and I don’t want the fucking house. I’m not stupid, it’s worth a fortune, and since it’s mine, I’ll take it. But unlike you, and Danny, and everyone before you, I don’t need it. And that’s what pisses you off so goddamn much. Because I have something to brag about. And you’ve done not one fucking worthwhile thing in your life, so you’ve got dick.”
Score!
I nearly cheered.
Instead, since this seemed to be winding down, I made sure to keep to the carpet runner and quickly made my way to the foyer.
That was marble, no rug, so I tiptoed as best I could around the staircase, then walked normally when I entered the Conservatory.
Because I knew where I could find a drink.
I was helping myself to a bottle of Champagne (Veuve, as a matter of fact) from the beverage fridge when I cried out and whirled after I heard Ian ask, “Making yourself at home?”
I stood, expensive bottle in one hand, fingers wrapped around the cork I’d already divested of its foil, caught red-handed.
“Uh…”
“Enjoy the entertainment?”
Shit, I could feel the blood rushing to my face.
