Peter expected the shock in Lady Tesh’s expression as he stalked into her sitting room later that same afternoon.
The worry that colored it, however, was a surprise. Before he could wonder at it, however, the woman spoke.
“Peter, you’re back.”
“You ensured that, madam,” he snapped. Already the walls of the room were closing in on him. He clenched his jaw. The sooner he saw his damn promise fulfilled, the better.
She motioned to the same delicate chair he’d sat in earlier that day. Yet again he tried his luck with the flimsy piece of furniture. If he was to stay here an entire month, they would have to do something about the seating.
“I admit I did not think I would see you again,” she said.
“Then you have no notion of how important my mother was to me.”
“I think I do, Peter,” she murmured, the kindness in her voice making him squirm in his fragile seat. Yet he could not fail to see that her expression did not reflect her tone. Her lips were pressed tight, her brows knit with either displeasure or worry.
He narrowed his eyes. “Why do I get the impression that you would rather not have seen me back?” An idea took root. “Are you rescinding your demand? For I don’t mind saying that I will be happy to simply hand over the money.”
“No,” she said quickly. She regarded him with an odd mix of concern and frustration before, with a quickly indrawn breath, her expression hardened. “That is,” she continued, her voice firming with each word, “my request for you to stay here a month still stands.”
He gave a sharp, dry laugh. “Request? Is that how you see it then?”
She shrugged, apparently unconcerned with his foul mood. “You do not have to accept my offer.”
“Don’t I?” He shifted, the chair protesting loudly beneath him, and narrowed his eyes as he considered her. “I agree to your request, madam. And at the end of the month the promise made to my mother will be fulfilled.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Shall we shake on it then?” She held out a hand.
Peter stared at it, at the joints twisted and warped with age. “Not yet,” he said. “I would have the terms of this agreement set out before I sign my soul to the devil.”
Her hand lowered, her lips quirking in amusement. “The devil, eh? Well, I can’t say I haven’t been likened to that nefarious creature before.”
He frowned. “The terms?” he pressed.
“Yes.” She straightened, and her gaze turned cunning. “You are to stay here a month, to sit with me every afternoon and dine with me each evening, to provide your company on outings. And before you think you may be silent and sullen, I will tell you here and now I expect conversation from you. You will be here in mind, as well as body, or you may consider our agreement void.”
He considered her faint smile, going over her demands in his mind. “Define how you expect me to provide my company.”
Her gaze sharpened, though her features remained placid. “I’m an old woman, Peter,” she said easily. “I don’t get out much, you know.”
“Amuse me,” he drawled.
Her smile shifted a fraction. “Oh, you know, the typical pursuits in a seaside town. Trips to the lending library, visits to the modiste, taking the air at some of the more picturesque locales.” Here her voice dipped, the words becoming a jumble of incoherency.
Peter tilted his head. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
Her smile slipped entirely then. She flashed him a look of annoyance. “I said, you stubborn man, dinner parties and balls as well.”
“Oh, no,” Peter declared.
“Oh, yes,” Lady Tesh came back. “There is a subscription ball held twice weekly in the assembly hall. I may not dance”—here she looked ruefully at her legs—“but I do so love to join in the fun, watching the young people, indulging in the gossip.”
“No,” Peter said hotly. “I refuse to attend some society ball, madam.”
Lady Tesh let out a laugh at that. “Society ball? Peter, where on earth do you think we are? This is not London, my boy. The balls held here on the Isle no more resemble a grand London ball than I resemble a debutante.”
He frowned, refusing to be drawn in. “No balls,” he said again.
She pursed her lips. “Four balls. And six dinner parties.” When he opened his mouth to speak, she held up a hand. “I insist on you giving in a bit. After all, your poor mother…”
Peter swallowed a curse. The woman was a demon sent straight from hell to torment him. He lifted his eyes to heaven for a moment before returning them to her. “If you insist,” he bit out. “But with a minor adjustment. One ball, and two dinner parties.”
She shook her head mournfully, though her eyes glittered with triumph. “You really must try to meet me partway, Peter. Three balls and four dinner parties.”
“You are deluded. Two balls and three dinner parties. And,” he continued when she opened her mouth to argue once again, “I shall even endeavor not to sit in the corner and sulk.”
She chuckled. “You strike a hard bargain, my boy. I can see how you became so successful in the wilds of America.”
Peter felt his lips quirk in a burst of amusement—mingled liberally with annoyance. “Boston is hardly the wilds of America, madam.”
She waved a hand in the air. “A figure of speech, I assure you. Very well. I accept your terms. Now, is there anything else you would like to add to this deal before we put an end to it?”
“Just one. I would have my business partner staying here as well.”
“He is welcome here at Seacliff,” she said without the slightest hesitation. “Now, shall we shake on it?”
This time when she held out her hand, he took it. Her skin was cool and parchment thin, the bones and swollen joints prominent against the press of his fingers. Peter had the sudden fear that if he gripped too hard, they would shatter. A strange protectiveness surged in him, quickly squelched. If there was anything this harridan did not need, it was his protection.
“It is done then,” she said. “When can you move your things in?”
The finality of her tone sent a wave of panic through him. What have I done? But it was much too late now. Tamping it down, he responded, “Immediately. My associate and our belongings are in a carriage in your drive as we speak.”
“Splendid.” She reached for a bell on the small table beside her and rang it with vigor. Immediately the butler appeared in the doorway. “Jasper, please see to the carriage in the drive. And we will need two more bedrooms prepared, as my great-nephew and his friend will be staying with us.”
“Very good, my lady.”
Great-Nephew. The word jolted him, sending a shiver up his spine. Disconcerted by his reaction to a label he should feel nothing for, he rose abruptly. “I will apprise Quincy that things have been settled,” he stated, suddenly desperate to leave her. Before he could depart, however, the click of canine nails on the polished wood floor heralded the arrival of Lady Tesh’s pet. The creature entered the room with a prancing step, followed closely by the young woman from that morning.
He sucked in a breath at the sight of her. For she was even lovelier than he remembered. Locks of gilded curls bounced about her shoulders, caressing the long, graceful column of her neck. An overly decorated pale blue gown of some expensive, shimmery material hugged her small breasts and moved in glistening folds with each step she took. Her eyes, with their fringe of thick lashes, settled on him, widening perceptibly. That lush little mouth opened in surprise.
“Oh,” she said, the word a mere breath of sound.
Peter could only stare back at her, at a loss as to what he had been about to do.
“My dear, you have returned. And how was your walk?” Lady Tesh spoke into the ensuing silence, snapping Peter back to the moment.
The young lady gave him one last look before gliding toward the viscountess. As she passed him, Peter felt a rush of air, and the faint, sweet scent of summer berries teased his senses. He watched as she placed a kiss upon the older woman’s cheek. “The walk was lovely, Gran. I had not realized how much I needed the exercise after such a lengthy trip.”
“Gran?” Peter demanded before he could school his tongue. Had his suspicions been confirmed, and this young woman was related to him?
And why did that leave a bad taste in his mouth?
“I’m glad for it,” Lady Tesh said to her with a soft smile. “But let me introduce you to our guest. My dear, this is my great-nephew, Mr. Peter Ashford. Peter, this is Miss Lenora Hartley. I was her mother’s godmother, and over the years, Lenora has become dear friends with my granddaughter, Margery. She is staying with us for the time being.”
Even as a disturbing relief flowed through him at the realization that Miss Hartley was not a relation, another unwelcome bit of knowledge punched him in the gut. Staying with us? Which meant this lovely creature, who had invaded his thoughts in the most unwelcome way, was also a guest in this house. “You did not tell me you already had guests, madam,” Peter said, his voice sounding strangled to his own ears.
“I can assure you,” she said with an amused smile, “there is plenty of room for all of us. You and your friend will not be crowded in the least.”
That, Peter thought as he gazed into Miss Hartley’s flushed face, may be true. What it would do to his peace of mind, however, was another matter entirely.
* * *
After her confusing—and frankly disturbing—thoughts about the Duke of Dane’s heir, the last thing Lenora wanted to see was that very same man standing in Lady Tesh’s sitting room.
She dipped a curtsy, praying her trembling knees held her steady, and shot a quick glance at Lady Tesh. The viscountess was watching her intently, concern, as well as curiosity, mingling on her deeply lined face. As confused as she was regarding the older woman’s intentions in inviting Mr. Ashford to stay, she could not deny the man had a right to be there.
“It’s a pleasure,” Lenora said to him now.
He inclined his head, fixing her with the same intense gaze he had earlier that day. The trembling in her legs spread to the rest of her, making her feel strangely flushed and achy.
What in the world was wrong with her?
“So happy to have met you,” she continued in a rush, “and I do hope you enjoy your stay, but I must run. Margery is expecting me, and I’m late as it is, as I was out walking Freya. Freya is quite fond of the copse of trees close to the cliff, you see”—keep quiet, Lenora—“and was taking much longer than anticipated. Not that I mind walking her.” Goodness, stop talking! “No, it is a pleasure to help Lady Tesh out in any way. Though, of course, there are servants aplenty to do the job. Still I felt it imperative I do my part while staying here.”
Mr. Ashford was looking at her as if she had dropped to all fours and bayed like a dog. Lenora clamped her lips together and offered him a wan smile.
“Who is Freya?” he demanded.
That was what he took from her babbling? “The dog. Freya is the dog,” she replied a bit breathlessly.
Everyone looked down to the creature in question, who promptly sneezed.
“She’s named for a Viking goddess,” Lenora finished lamely.
“A goddess.”
“Yes.”
Silence descended. Mr. Ashford continued to stare at Freya, who in turn ignored him with cool unconcern. If dogs could feel cool unconcern.
Lenora wished desperately she were Freya in that moment. For it would be preferable to the confusing jumble of attraction and guilt that she was wading through.
As she opened her mouth to speak again, anything to fill that damnable silence, a sinfully attractive gentleman strode into the room. “The man at the door said I could find you here,” he said to Mr. Ashford. “Damn near tackled me when I made to walk off without him, but I do believe I gave him the slip.” He grinned and turned to Lenora. His chiseled face transformed, going from boyish delight to heavy-lidded interest in the space of a heartbeat. “Well, hello.”
A growl sounded. Lenora turned to look at the dog, but Freya was busy staring at Mr. Ashford, her too-large ears tilted toward him. Had that noise come from Mr. Ashford then?
She was saved from ruminating on it as the dark man with the wickedly sparkling onyx eyes sauntered forward. “Peter,” he drawled, not taking his eyes from Lenora, “perhaps you would be so kind as to introduce me to this vision.”
Mr. Ashford merely glared at the man, who continued to stare at Lenora as if she were a sweet cake.
It was Lady Tesh who finally spoke. “You must be Peter’s business associate.”
He gave Lenora a bold wink before turning toward the viscountess. “As my friend is playing the brute, allow me to introduce myself,” he said, striding to the older woman and bowing over her hand with an impressive flourish. “I am Mr. Quincy Nesbitt. And you must be Lady Tesh. It’s an honor to be a guest in your beautiful home.”
“The honor is mine,” Lady Tesh replied. Suddenly her eyes sharpened. Which really was saying something, as the woman had the most piercing gaze Lenora had ever witnessed. “Nesbitt? An unusual name, that’s certain. You’re not by chance related to the Duke of Reigate, are you?”
The man’s smooth smile turned brittle, the tightening of his lips and the hardening of his eyes altering him in an instant. Then Lenora blinked and his face smoothed back into its previous warmth. A trick of the light, perhaps?
“Ah, I’m afraid not,” he said with a mournful shake of his head. “Though that would be something, wouldn’t it?” He chuckled, before letting his dark gaze drift back to Lenora.
Lady Tesh took the hint. “My young friend here that you were flirting so outrageously with is Miss Lenora Hartley.”
“Miss Hartley,” he drawled, bowing in her direction.
“My granddaughter is also staying with me,” Lady Tesh continued. “You will meet her later.”
“I look forward to it,” he said with a slow smile. His eyes fell to where Freya sat at Lady Tesh’s feet. To Lenora’s surprise, he dropped to one knee before the dog. “And this tiny creature?”
“That there is Freya. I think you will find she is more mistress here than I am,” Lady Tesh replied.
“Well, aren’t you a beauty,” Mr. Nesbitt cooed, reaching out to scratch Freya under the chin. The dog closed her eyes and let out a low moan.
Lenora choked back a laugh. She had a feeling that the man was more than used to such reactions from females. He was quite the most attractive man she had ever seen, and the most confident as well. And that was saying something, having been acquainted with most members of the ton.
Why, then, Lenora thought as her eyes were pulled against their will to Mr. Ashford, was she much more drawn to a great glowering Viking?
The man in question made a rude sound. “Come along, Casanova,” he growled. Grabbing his friend by the arm, he pulled him to his feet and propelled him out the door. But not before Mr. Nesbitt gifted her with a parting wink.
“Dear me,” Lenora said faintly.
Lady Tesh watched the men leave. “This, I do believe, will be a very interesting month.”