“I’ll have my engineers take a look at it,” he conceded.
“It’s been declared sound.” Lydia didn’t appear at all happy with this turn of events.
Well, that made two of them.
“By whom? The seller?” Judging by the look on her face, he’d assumed correctly. “I’ll check it out myself.”
“Perhaps the two of you could discuss the details while you escort Lady Lydia to my wife’s carriage. If you both wouldn’t mind excusing me a moment, I’d like a private… moment or two with Her Ladyship.”
“Not at all.” Jeremy crossed to the door, not acknowledging the dark-haired beauty when he passed her. Hell and damnation, even her fragrance still affected him—something sweet but also floral. He opened the door and turned around. “Are you coming, my lady?” He cocked one brow in herdirection, noting her curves were even more voluptuous than they had been before.
She joined him at the door and then tilted her head back, smiling brilliantly. “How could I refuse?”
He hated it when she did that. He narrowed his eyes and frowned. “I don’t suppose you can.”
A LOVE LOST
Lydia’s lips trembled when she smiled at him, but she refused to be anything other than professional. She had come here today on business and would not allow her emotions to get the better of her. Even if her knees did nearly give out on her when she skirted around him.
He stiffened and scowled, and the part of her heart that had finally started to heal broke open again. Just a hint of his scent, spicy with a touch of cedar, had her remembering other times that they’d walked together.
He assumed she was unhappy because he’d refused to trust her judgment regarding the condition of the warehouse. He assumed she was not happy that she was going to have to work with him, rather than Lord Baxter.
But he was wrong. Her unhappiness came from seeing him this way—dearest Jeremy—hardened and jaded.
Jeremy Gilcrest was an earl and, by nature, had never been an overly demonstrative gentleman, even before his brother’s death the year before. He’d been reserved and his smiles had been rare. Duty had always come first, and because of this, many had considered him unfeeling.
But she’d known better.
Jeremy had not been heartless—not with her and not with the people he had cared for.
The fact that he’d shut them all out was the reason why she was unhappy. Her throat thickened with emotion at the thought.
“Do your brothers know you are here?” His voice skated over her senses as he trailed behind her. He hadn’t offered his arm, and he did not touch his hand to her back protectively.
“Blackheart is on the Continent, and Lucas is in Kent. Aunt Emma has taken up residence at Heart Place in Blackheart’s absence as my guardian.” She straightened her back. “But I’m not a child.”
“Ah, yes. Dear Aunt Millicent. She’s the deaf one, is she not? The one who wears obnoxiously thick spectacles.”
“She is a little hard of hearing but I’d hardly call her deaf. When did you become so cruel?” Lydia refused to look at him.
“You are not yet nine and ten, and Blackheart abandons you in London to fend for yourself? What on earth is he thinking?”
Was he even listening to her? Lydia struggled to bite back her irritation, only to feel a stark sadness rushing in to take its place—because it hadn’t always been like this between them.
On her eighteenth birthday, less than ten months before, even though Jeremy had been in mourning for his brother, he’d taken her for a romantic stroll through the meadow that stretched between Galewick Manor and Crescent Park. He’d gently tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and the two of them had strolled to the waterfall on the edge of both estates.
He’d told her the bluebells reminded him of the color of her eyes. And he’d kissed her.
The gentle pressure of his lips on hers had sent her heart racing. The feel of his arms pulling her close had made her blood flow hot.
Now, he acted as though they were strangers.
“I did not expect to see you here,” she informed him.
“Oh, really?”
Lydia clenched her jaw.
