Her brow wrinkled far too adorably. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“How cryptic,” she murmured as she gained his side.
“You love a good puzzle.”
She smiled up at him as they left behind the corridor for the great front hall. “You are beginning to know me far too well.”
Not well enough.
Blast! There he went again. So much for mental determination ... which actually might be something to explore in his next poem.
“I wonder if you know your business partner is seeking press for the collection I’m working on?” she asked.
The thought of Gil snapped him from any romantic notionswhatsoever. Though admittedly the man’s behaviour had toned down, he was still becoming a bur in his side with hisha-ha’s andold man’s. “He mentioned it in passing last night, but I told him such publicity isn’t the way to go about gaining serious buyers. I’d prefer it if Price House wasn’t turned into a circus.”
“Apparently Mr. Fletcher didn’t take the hint. Not an hour ago he asked if I would write down the story of the curse. He believes the tale of the golden griffin will increase the price of the lot, particularly in Mr. Harrison’s case.”
“I hope you refused.”
“Actually, I told him I could, but I’d make sure to include a disclaimer that any supposed curses are not included in the purchase price.”
He laughed, the sound echoing in the large space of the front hall. What a quick-witted mind she owned!
She glanced up at him as they passed by the bronze vases, the sweet scent of lilies mixing with her cinnamon fragrance. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but I am curious about the exact nature of the business in which you’ve partnered with him?”
“I don’t mind at all.” In fact, he was pleased she took interest. “Shortly after my father died, so did his business manager. By God’s grace and the recommendation of several trusted associates at the time, I approached Gilbert Fletcher for the job of managing my financial portfolio. Gil is a genius with numbers, even more so when it comes to investing. He has a broad reach and exposure to different business sectors and quite the flair for emerging markets. Currently, he manages my holdings here in England, and in return, earns a hefty percentage for himself. Part of our net worth is intertwined, but he does have other ventures, as have I in India. Overall, he is a good business partner.”
“If not a rather erratic one.”
He sighed. “I do admit he’s been off-center.”
“So why keep him on? It’s not like you’re married to the man.”
“True.” He chuckled. Leave it to her to drill to the centerof a matter. “But I owe him a great deal, enough to grant him some leeway.”
Ami paused at his study door, the colour of her eyes hovering somewhere between blue and green as she stared at him. “What could a powerful man like yourself owe to such a feckless fellow?”
“My entire fortune. I know”—he held up a hand—“hard to believe, but true. In my earlier years, I wasn’t quite as business savvy as I am now, and I entangled myself with some cutthroat capitalists. In the midst of a troubled business venture, Gil shielded me from impending legal disaster arising from a dubious investment that went sour. I was facing potential bankruptcy and accusations of fraud. But Gil—God love him—orchestrated a strategic defense, sparing no expense to protect my assets and reputation. His selfless sacrifice, shouldering legal consequences and fines on my behalf, forged a loyalty between us. So despite my suspicions of his recent behaviour, I find it hard to part ways with him. His actions during our darkest hour went beyond mere partnership. They represent a debt of gratitude I can never fully repay.”
“Mmm,” she murmured. “There are so many sides to you, Mr. Price, that I hardly know what next to expect.”
“Well, I hope what I show you next will be a good surprise.” He swept a hand toward the open doorway.
She grinned—but that smile vanished the moment they entered his study and her gaze landed on the mess near the bookshelves—the very same look the housekeeper had given him when she’d first seen the project. A large toolbox sat on the floor. A ladder leaned against the far side of the wall where sawdust mounded like fallen snow on the baseboards.
Miss Dalton slapped a hand against her chest. “Please do not tell me you are getting rid of the bookshelves.”
“Just modifying them, and that’s exactly what I wished you to see.” Taking care to avoid the Ming Dynasty vase on a pedestal, he stepped past the toolbox, then held out his hand to help her cross over it as well. “I had the woodworker inset this shelf”—he ran his fingers over the freshly sanded wood—“toprovide plenty of space, leaving no room whatsoever for the chance of the item falling and getting damaged.”
“Very thoughtful,” she murmured. “But what item?”
“The golden griffin. I thought it might ease your mind to see the care I shall take of such a valuable artifact. Furthermore, I assure you when I move to London, every bit as much precaution shall be taken there as well. I have instructed the renovators to build a secure shelf much like this one.”
Her brow folded into deep creases. “I know that legally the griffin is your property to do with as you wish, Mr. Price, but I really think that artifact and the rest of the lot you purchased belong in the Cairo Museum. Those relics were created in Egypt and are an important part of the country’s cultural heritage, the golden griffin in particular, as it is a religious piece.”
When she was this fired up, he couldn’t help but admire the flame on her cheeks and spark in her eyes. He grinned. “Then you should be pleased to learn I have already written the museum. If they agree to pay market value, I will be happy to sell the relics to them. I am a businessman, after all.”
