“Not at all. Come in.” And then he braced himself for her complaints. No doubt, she was used to more lavish accommodations and was realizing she needed much more than her needle and thread to make herself comfortable.
She went to close the door, but rather than allow it to latch, left an opening of about an inch. She didn’t turn right around, however, hovering for a few beats with her hand still on the handle, but then shrugged and closed it all the way.
All the while Leopold appreciated the view her hesitation provided him, particularly the way her hips flared beneath her gown. Without a corset, she looked softer—like a woman ought to look.
“I don’t suppose it matters if I’m alone behind closed doors with you,” she supplied in explanation. She then turned, approaching his desk hesitantly, and Leopold, who’d remained standing, gestured toward the chair Fitz had occupied.
“I don’t suppose it does,” he agreed, lowering himself once she was seated. “Do you have a problem with your chamber?”
“Not at all. Was the modern plumbing your doing?”
Taken aback, Leopold nodded.
“My father said it wasn’t necessary. But, I think it’s rather wonderful, having hot and cold water so easily available. The room is lovely as well—and Bessie’s introduced me to a few of your maids. Everyone is so nice.” She glanced around Leopold’s office, and as her eyes lingered on the meager decor—or lack thereof, rather—Leopold found that he was holding his breath.
In distinct contrast to what she must be accustomed to, Leopold’s study was not lined with bookshelves filled with volumes he didn’t have time to read. Even more notably, not asingle priceless painting hung to boast of long dead ancestors who had come before him.
“Everything is so…” She met his stare. “Clean,” she finished brightly.
Whereas he expected to see the same disappointment she’d shown earlier, her eyes had lit up with… approval?
He swallowed around an unexpected lump in his throat. “I don’t see the purpose of clutter.” He liked clean. He liked open space. And he liked knowing it belonged to him.
“Why would you, with such a magnificent view?” She was staring beyond his shoulder. “It’s stunning.”
He shouldn’t care that she liked it. He had no business caring, damn it.
And yet, his chest seemed to expand.
“You should have seen it before…” Recalling the splintered floorboards, parts of the ceiling that had caved in, and the broken windows. The list went on and on… “The previous owner, a baron, fell broke when his mines closed. Couldn’t afford to keep it up.”
She nodded. “It happens. Before my father got into shipping, he had no choice but to sell off some valuables. I didn’t notice, myself; I was too young to care, I suppose. But Mother still complains about having to sell some of her jewelry. And there are a few obviously empty spots on the wall. But all that changed after Dashiell left for the tropics.” She met his gaze again, looking a touch startled. “You’re surprisingly easy to talk to sometimes. Did you know that?”
“It’s only because there’s no need to impress me.” A little hypocritical of him to say, considering how much her disappointment in Smuggler’s Manor had ruffled his feathers. “Who is Dashiell?” The name was unfamiliar.
“My brother, Viscount Warbane.” The corners of her mouth tilted up. But then she rolled her lips together. “After traveling toJamaica, Dash discovered that my father’s manager was keeping over half the profits for himself.”
“Your father owns a plantation,” Leopold guessed. But he couldn’t approve.
“Yes. They grow sugar. And tobacco.” She stared down at her hands and, for a moment, seemed to squirm in her chair. She must know, then, that those profits were made off the backs of slaves. At some point over the last few days, he’d allowed himself to forget exactly who she was.
Regardless, it wasn’t his business to make her see the evil in it. Or to educate her. Her time at Smuggler’s Manor was temporary, and in a matter of weeks she’d go back to being untouchable. She was the daughter of a marquess. What would she care so long as her needs were met in the manner to which she was accustomed?
And staring at her now, noticing her flawless skin, eyes as blue as the sky behind him, and her delightful heart-shaped face, some of the contempt he’d imagined he’d have for her returned.
He was grateful for the reminder. His body might still feel a very natural tug of desire, but actually liking the woman felt… dangerous.
Leopold shuttered his expression. “Does your brother return to England often?”
“He was here over the holidays.”
Which meant…
Finally, something interesting. It was the same time Crossings had visited Cherrywood Park, which made it more than likely the brother was in as deep as the father. Possibly more so.
If nothing else, it might provide them with another possible lead to follow.
“Do you miss him?” Leopold asked.
