Decker arrived athis offices, still at sixes and sevens, and happier than he ordinarily was to see Macfie awaiting him in the vestibule, as had become their custom over the past several years. If hisaide-de-camptook note that Decker was fifteen and one half minutes late, he wisely kept mum.
“Just the man I was looking for,” Decker said, heading to his inner sanctum. “Do come with me, Macfie, and make haste. I have not the time for tarrying.”
That was yet another lie today in what was fast becoming a vast sea of falsehoods.Bloody hell, one would think him no better than his self-righteous prig of a sire. In truth, Decker had finished his rough proofs. He had no meeting with Mr. Levi Storm—at least, not a pressing morning one—and he had nothing to do save review some ledgers from the piano factory, along with a leasehold investment in Belgravia he was not particularly keen on.
He made his way through the busy swirl of the men—and women—in his employ, going about their day. Some lady typewriters had been newly hired and were serving well. Decker nodded as he went, doing his utmost not to appear as agitated as he felt. He had learned long ago that one never showed a weak underbelly in business matters.
Not even with one’s own staff.
Macfie, however, was a different matter altogether. Decker trusted the man nearly as much as he trusted Sin.
Decker realized belatedly that he was still wearing his hat and coat as he entered his private office. He had been too damned preoccupied to remove them upon his arrival. He spun about as Macfie crossed the threshold and closed the door at his back.
“Devil take it, man,” Decker snapped, scowling, “why did you not say something?”
Macfie’s bushy red brows rose. “About what, sir? Yer hat and coat? I thought mayhap ye were a wee bit cold this morning.”
He raised a brow, doffing his hat and coat and throwing them into a nearby chair with complete disregard for whether or not they ended up rumpled and crushed. “Why should I be cold, Macfie? We have nearly reached the month of July.”
Macfie blinked. “I cannae say, sir. Why would ye walk about in yer outerwear if not to ward off a chill? In Scotland, July can be as cold as a winter’s privy.”
He sighed, knowing his man was testing him. It was an old game between them. “This is London, Macfie.”
“Aye, and London can also be cold as a winter’s privy, cannae she?” Macfie returned.
“I concede the point. However, today is not one of those days, as you undoubtedly are already aware,” he said. “But enough of all this nattering. You must realize I have a reason for calling you in here at this time of the morning.”
“Aye.” Macfie flashed an unrepentant grin. “Since ye ordinarily spend all morning scowling at yer desk and hollering for more coffee, with the occasional threat tae my puir eyebrows, I had a suspicion ye needed tae speak with me.”
Decker bit back the urge to laugh, much-needed though it was today. “Am I that terrible, Macfie?”
Hisaide-de-campblinked. “Need I answer ye, sir?”
He gritted his teeth. “Not if you wish to keep your position.”
Macfie made an exaggerated effort of rolling his lips inward, as if they were now pasted together. He furthered the comical display by holding his breath. Decker wanted to be irritated with him, but he could not deny the man was hilarious. Furthering the effect, Macfie’s face was turning red.
“Are you holding your breath?” he asked needlessly.
Macfie nodded his head in assent, looking as if he were about to burst.
Cheeky arsehole.
“You are fortunate you excel at your position, Macfie,” he said somberly, the same old threat. “You may exhale. I wish to have a serious conversation with you.”
Macfie released his breath in a noisy display. “Thank ye, sir. What was it ye wanted tae discuss that is serious? The last time I had a serious conversation with anyone, it was after I went for a wee swim in the loch and emerged with leeches feasting on my doodle.”
This time, Decker could not help himself. He laughed because he bloody wellhadto. “Dare I ask what manner of conversation such an event precipitated?”
“It swelled up something horrible, tae where I could scarcely even take a piss, and I had tae see a physician over it.” Macfie nodded, his countenance earnest. “Never again will I go swimming in a loch. ‘Tis a solemn vow. The sea or nothing for me. Now what was it ye wished tae discuss?”
How to follow up leeches on a doodle? Decker was reasonably certain he was the only man in England currently facing such a quandary. But Macfie was all he had for the moment. He needed advice, and he could not very well ask Sin. Happily married men who fancied themselves deliriously in love with their wives could not offer trustworthy guidance.
Decker busied himself with rounding his desk. “Have a seat, Macfie. This may take some time.”
His desk here was simple and unadorned. Not nearly as elegant or ornate as the desk in his study and yet, somehow, this desk suited him far better. He was a wealthy man—now in his own right, and to the devil with the Earl of Graham’s leavings—and yet simplicity still appealed to him most of all.
Decker seated himself in the familiar comfort of his chair and watched as Macfie folded his massive body into one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk. The man scarcely fit.
