He hadn’t truly seen her. Only impressions through the fog of his damaged vision. A slender form. Long, dark hair. The graceful way she moved through his study.
But he had felt her hands when she had reached across the desk to touch him with what she claimed was mere sympathy. He had caught her scent and it lingered in his study long after she had departed. He had sensed an elegance about her, an innate grace that went beyond mere physical beauty.
The distraction cost him. Hugo’s fist hit his jaw.
“Ha!” Hugo crowed triumphantly, dancing backward with his fists raised in victory. “I did it! I actually landed a hit! You saw that, didn’t you? Well, probably not, but youfeltit!”
Laurence worked his jaw, tasting copper. Despite himself, he chuckled. “Well done. You’ve achieved your monthly miracle.”
His fist shot out in retaliation, catching Hugo on the stomach. Hugo’s victory dance ended abruptly as he doubled over, wheezing.
“And there’s my response,” Laurence said mildly.
Hugo held up one hand in surrender, still gasping for breath. “Point… taken…”
They moved to the bench along the wall where towels and water waited.
Hugo collapsed onto the bench beside him, mopping sweat from his face. “So,” he said once he’d caught his breath, “are you going to tell me about this mysterious lady? Or must I resort to interrogating your butler?”
“There’s nothing to tell. She is assisting me with my account books and estate ledgers. A purely professional arrangement.”
“Oh, really?” Hugo’s tone was far too knowing. “And she comes to your study. Alone. Multiple times per week. To handle your private financial affairs.”
“Your point?”
“My point, dear friend, is that I’ve been offering to send you London’s finest accountants for over a year now. Men with decades of experience. Men who could manage your affairs with perfect competence.” Hugo paused significantly. “Yet you refused them all. And now suddenly you’ve engaged a young lady to do the work instead. Curious, don’t you think?”
Because I didn’t want London’s finest accountants in my business, Laurence thought.
But even as the justification formed, he knew it wasn’t entirely honest. Yes, he had needed someone outside London society. But there were plenty of country solicitors or men of business he could have hired.
Instead, he had chosen her.
“Mind your business, Ravenvale,” Laurence said, but there was no real heat in it.
Hugo laughed. “I’m just pleased you’re talking to a lady again, Ashcroft. It’s been years since you’ve shown interest in any woman.”
Laurence’s fist shot out, catching Hugo in the shoulder hard enough to make him yelp.
“I surrender! I surrender!” Hugo rubbed his shoulder with an exaggerated wince. “You’re entirely too violent for a man supposedly engaging in friendly sparring.”
They had been young when they’d met at Cambridge, Laurence barely eighteen, Hugo nineteen. Even then, Laurence had possessed a reputation for coldness that kept most people at a safe distance.
The young ladies who had flocked around him during those university years, daughters of professors, sisters of fellow students, had quickly learned that the handsome young duke-to-be was not interested in their flirtations. His sarcasm could flay skin from bone. His rejections were delivered to wound pride and discourage further attempts.
More than one young woman had left his presence in tears, and Laurence had felt not a shred of remorse. He had no time or patience for simpering misses who saw only his title and his face. He had shorter patience for young men trying to flatter their way into befriending him.
Where others had retreated from his cutting remarks, Hugo had laughed. Where others had given up in the face of his coldness, Hugo had persisted with good-humored determination.
Eventually, Laurence had stopped trying to push him away.
Now, fifteen years later, Hugo was the closest thing Laurence had to family. The only person in the world who knew about his injury and hadn’t treated him differently because of it.
Hugo retrieved two more glasses of water and handed one to Laurence, settling back onto the bench with a satisfied sigh.
“Did I tell you about the scandal that’s rocked London these past weeks?” Hugo asked, his tone shifting to the gossipy inflection he adopted when sharing particularly juicy rumors.
Laurence drank his water and let Hugo talk. This was part of their ritual, after sparring, Hugo would regale him with news from town, venting his frustrations with the greed and duplicity he encountered in his business dealings.
