He stood completely still, staring at her from across the grass. A breeze ruffled the ends of his hair, tossing the thick sherry-colored strands against his ears. No longer clean-shaven, he now sported a mustache and a brush of beard along his jaw.
Oh, he was dazzling. Dufton could not compare.
She tentatively raised a hand in greeting.
Maybe he doesn’t recognize me.
Wishful thinking, but entirely possible. It had been a handful of years. Lucy wasn’t the least memorable. Knowing her father, Estwood had surely realized by now that she hadn’t meant the terrible things she’d been forced to parrot at Granby’s ball. At any rate, this was far better than evading Sally in an attempt to meet with Estwood at the office of Mr. Hopps. Her plan had been to stand outside, once he’d agreed to the meeting, and intercept him.
A wistful smile pulled at her lips. That hum, always present wherever Estwood happened to be, floated along her skin. There was no park or Dufton. She barely heard the birds or the laughter of the boy tossing about the ball.
Estwood’s brows drew together. His eyes turned frosty. And hescowled. As if Lucy were a bit of spoiled pudding.
Her hand jerked to grab at her skirts as she took a step back from the slightly murderous look he gave her.
Oh. Well, I suppose he hasn’t forgotten.
4
Harry Estwood whistled as he strolled through the park. The meeting with his solicitor had been lengthy. A good walk on a beautiful day would help him think things through.
Gerald Waterstone was up to his usual petty tricks. One would think, after years of insults, ruining more than a handful of potentially lucrative opportunities, not to mention the constant insults and scheming in Harry’s direction, Waterstone might find another hobby. But no, the arrogant prick had made it his personal mission to torment Harry. Blame him for every poor decision and the loss of the duke’s friendship.
Next Waterstone would claim Harry had conspired to take down the British empire. Or was responsible for the plague.
Waterstone doubtless blamed Harry for his pending impoverishment. Thus, the note Harry had received but hadn’t responded to. A ploy disguised as a plea for help, he’d even had the audacity to use Granby’s name. The more desperate that pompous imbecile became, the more likely he’d sell not only Pendergast, but also Marsden.
Harry halted before the Serpentine and lit a cheroot, blowing the smoke out in tiny rings. Pendergast should have already been his.
The bid for an ironworks in the north of Yorkshire should never have caught Waterstone’s attention. Pendergast had been profitable, if not overly large. Waterstone didn’t have any other investments in industries he felt beneath his lofty standards. But he’d found out Pendergastmeantsomething to Harry.
A gentleman’s agreement between Mr. Pendergast and Harry to buy the ironworks had already been in place, but thatpuffed up prickWaterstone, perhaps knowing of Mrs. Pendergast’s desire to live in London and enjoy society, had touted his connections and social status, using both to charm the couple. Waterstone had paid double what the ironworks was worth, closing the deal before Harry had even had a chance to present a counteroffer.
This is what happens when you reach above yourself. Just as you did before.
“Miserable bastard. Should have beaten him senseless when he shouted those words at me. But Granby said there were too many witnesses,” Harry threw into the breeze, watching the smoke of his cheroot float towards the water. “Still wish I’d done it.”
Because that was what stealing Pendergast had really been about—Harry overstepping the boundaries men like Waterstone didn’t want him to cross. Namely, Miss Lucy Waterstone.
“Prick.”
A flock of ducks settled near the edge of the water, fluttering their wings. He liked ducks. Harry looked out across the Serpentine and heard in his mind the rustle of silk. Saw the thick mass of hair the color of ink. A figure any courtesan would envy. So bloody fine, Harry had become lost to her at their first meeting. He’d watched her from a distance during that entirestupid house party, drawn to her fragility and the sense of melancholy hovering about her shoulders.
He hadn’t been able to stop looking at her.
No wonder Waterstone took Pendergast, you bloody idiot.
Miss Lucy Waterstone had figured prominently in Harry’s dreams for years, at least those of a more carnal nature, no matter the number of other women he took to his bed. The ladylike Miss Waterstone, on her knees before Harry, begging in that breathless whisper for his cock. Moaning softly as he pounded into all those lush curves. Tangling his fingers in the cascade of raven curls while he did the most depraved things to her.
A bitter laugh escaped him.
Miss Waterstone had never been Harry’s. Not even close. She’d made her feelings for him abundantly clear, destroying whatever ridiculous hope he’d held. Harry wasn’t even sure what had become of her, and he refused to ask Granby.
He kicked at a stone, rubbing the edge of his missing pinky finger. He flicked his cheroot to the grass, grinding it beneath his heel.
Pendergast, he meant to take back. Waterstone had to sell the ironworks, and Harry was the only offer he had. But there was the land in the Cleveland Hills. Marsden. A barren parcel nearly devoid of all life and deemed worthless except for river access. It had taken Harry a great deal of digging to find out the ownership of Marsden, and it was bad luck that the trail had ended at Waterstone. First, Harry had attempted to purchase the land through an intermediary, but all attempts had been rebuffed. Next, he had gone directly to Waterstone, offering a ridiculous sum of money, which hadn’t worked either.
But Waterstone must be growing desperate and had changed his mind. His debts were mounting—honestly, the only business decision the man seemed capable of making was a poor one.Harry would let him twist in the wind for a bit longer and then make an offer for both PendergastandMarsden. One Waterstone couldn’t possibly refuse. Harry couldn’t let him sit too long, though. His sources in Yorkshire claimed Lord Dufton had been sniffing around.
