Benedict strode into the morning room with sharp steps that echoed his frustration at having to leave work. The pressure was on. Once the contract was signed, they’d need to launch straight into a production schedule twice as fast as originally planned—and now Tessie had developed a problem. It needed solving fast, and he couldn’t do it from the sitting room.
That said, if the lawyer Charlie mentioned was from the Americans…God, what if he was there to say the contract had been given to someone else? What the devil would happen then?
He entered the sitting room where his wife had a teacup in hand while the lawyer—a reedy-looking man if he’d ever seen one—was laughing.
Thank God for Amelia. Benedict was too rough and too straight-talking to deal comfortably with London folk. Amelia was smooth as cream and could put anyone at ease. She was an element of his business negotiations that he hadn’t known he needed.
The thin fellow stood when he saw Benedict enter. He gave a deep bow. This man was definitely not from the Americans.
Benedict held out his hand. “Mr. Coventry, I presume.”
The lawyer hesitated a moment before clasping it. His handshake was like a wet fish—clammy and soft.
“What can I do for you?” Perhaps he was too direct, but he didn’t have time fit for wasting.
The man flicked his eyes to Amelia and back to Benedict. “Perhaps it would be best if we spoke in private?”
Muscles tightened around Amelia’s jaw. Her lips thinned almost imperceptibly. Nothing annoyed her like being left out of gossip.
“This sounds serious. Perhaps we should relocate to the study.”
The look Amelia shot him was furious and gave Benedict the distinct feeling that, if he wanted to be welcome in her bed any time soon, having this conversation without her was not an option.
“Darling, will you join us?” He held his arm out.
The lawyer made a gulping noise, like he’d gone to breathe but had inhaled his ego instead. “I’m not sure that’s appropriate.”
“My wife is…” He hadn’t put any thought into what exactly she was, just that things worked better with her around. “…part of my business advisory council. And a board member of Asterly, Barnesworth & Co.”
Her eyes widened in a transparent and utterly-unlike-her manner. But why not? The advice she’d given him so far was excellent, she was clearly invested, and perhaps an official role might go some way to repairing the damage he’d done the other morning acting like a complete ass.
“I’m not here about any firm. This is not a business matter.” The distaste on the man’s face was plain. Bloody hell. Even lawyers were stratified.
“Then what is this about?” Benedict asked. His patience—what little of it he had—was wearing thin indeed.
“If we could just go into your study.” A twinge of urgency entered the man’s voice. This conversation was clearly not playing out the way the grasshopper had intended.
“Spit it out, man.”
Mr. Coventry wiped his brow. “This is highly unusual. To have this conversation in a lady’s room…”
Benedict ran a hand through his hair. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good. And he didn’t want to waste another five minutes changing rooms and making small talk.
As if sensing his looming outburst, Amelia placed a firm hand on his arm, stepping in front of him. Probably trying to put the insufferable lawyer at ease.
“I apologize if my husband seems abrupt. He is simply a very busy man and has never been one to stand on ceremony. If you could just tell us who sent you and what for, we can get this all fixed up so he can go back to his office.”
She was sweet and reasonable and oh-so polite, even though he was sure she wanted to wring the grasshopper’s neck as much as he did. It was a level of poise he didn’t possess.
Mr. Coventry swallowed. “I was sent by your grandfather. There has been an accident. Your cousin has passed, and you are the new heir to the Marquess of Harrington.”