"Show Mr. Peters the door, Loudon. He will not be returning," she said meaningfully.
Mr. Peters scowled and hesitated, then flung himself toward the open door, a muttered oath on his lips, and strode out of Cecilia's sight.
A long shuddering breath passed her lips. She swung her legs to the floor and sat on the edge of the sofa, her arms wrapped about her stomach. She rocked slightly, her mind recalling every word of her conversation with Mr. Peters. She was angry—and a little frightened,
Ruthlessly she pushed the latter emotion aside. How dare he threaten her! An anonymous buyer,bah!She must be close to discovering something. Why else the offer to purchase the London operation? It was well known that trade through London had decreased in recent years in favor of other ports closer to the manufacturing centers, such as Bristol and Liverpool. Truthfully, Mr. Waddley made most of his money in London as an insurance investor and speculator. Cecilia didn't know why he even maintained the London operation. However, she suspected an emotional attachment on her husband's part to what had been started by his grandfather and grown substantially under his father.
She had no particular attachment to the firm and hoped to one day sell it—in its entirety. But she wouldn't sell it in a havey-cavey manner. Nor would she sell it until she solved the mystery of her husband's death or satisfied herself it was a cause well lost.
She surged to her feet and began pacing the room. The veneer of manners on Mr. Peters was like cheap gilding. What manner of person would hire a vulgar, dirty lout to make his business dealings? She ventured it could be no one interested in pound dealing. Or anyone with a regard for her intellect. And that worm wanted to kiss her hand? Her instincts were correct when she ignored the gesture.Ugh!The thought of the greasy man with his supercilious air made her shudder. It also sharpened her anger,
"Excuse me, ma'am," ventured Loudon from the doorway. "Yes, what is it?" snapped Cecilia, continuing to pace.
Loudon flinched. "Sir James Branstoke is below," he said half-apologetically.
"I am in no mood for further visitors, Loudon. Please inform him so," she said, not pausing in her frenetic pacing.
Regret, will I?she thought. She stopped and stared sightlessly out the window, her hands planted firmly on her slim hips. "In a pig's eye!"
"Lady Meriton's man warned you were not in spirits," drawled Branstoke from the doorway.
Cecilia whirled around. "Who let you up here? I gave Loudon orders that I was not seeing anyone!"
He closed the doors behind him. "Yes, your sails are flying, aren't they? Who got your wind up?"
"That is none of your concern. Get out. I don't want to see anyone, particularly you!" she said, still smarting from his defection last evening back to Miss Cresswell's camp and her embarrassment at the shared kiss.
"Tsk, Tsk," he said mildly, advancing farther into the room. "I am tired of people flagrantly doubting my intelligence." "Never I."
"And attempting to manipulate me as if I were some featherbrained silly widgeon."
"I can't imagine anyone so rash."
"Imagine the audacity of someone hiring a—a toad like Mr. Peters to try to buy Waddley's from me!"
"He should have his cork drawn."
"And then daring to—to threaten me when I refused! It is not to be borne."
Branstoke paused in withdrawing his snuffbox from his waistcoat pocket. He looked at Cecilia as she stormed up and down the room, studying her high color and the martial light glittering in her blue eyes.What the hell has been going on!
He stuffed the box back into his pocket and strode over to her, grasping her by the shoulders. "Cecilia! What are you talking about? Who threatened you?"
"Peters, of course," she snapped, looking at him as if he were a simpleton. She pulled out of his grasp and continued her pacing. "Claims his anonymous client is generous." She turned to pace in front of the fireplace.
"Whose client?" he demanded, following her.
"Hiram Peters. Says all his so-called client wants is the London operation."
"Cecilia! You are speaking disjointedly. Slow down,” he urged, though his thoughts raced. “Tell me everything from the beginning."
"Said if I didn't agree to sell, his mysterious client hasothermethods of obtaining what he wants.Ha!We shall see about that!" she went on heatedly, ignoring his request.
"Confound it, woman," stormed Branstoke. An avalanche of emotion such as he’d never felt before swept over him. Dread, fear, and another feeling he’d never experienced and feared to name shattered his calm.
He reached out, stopping her in mid-stride. A soft growl emanated from his throat as he yanked her toward him, his lips coming down on hers with blazing intensity. There was fury, exasperation, and passion in his kiss.
The feelings it roused in Cecilia descended to her toes curled inside her satin slippers and ricocheted back up to the top of her head which tingled, and threatened to float away.
