“And whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?” he asked.
“Dear me, where have my manners gone?” Sounding flustered, Patty said, “I am Miss Hypatia Foley. Mrs. Foley was married to my brother.”
“Enchanté, ma’am.”
Patty blushed like a debutante.
Nip this in the bud. You must protect Glory, get her away from that man—now.
“I’m afraid our services are not available at present,” Maggie said brusquely. “Autumn is our busy season. You’ll have to find someone else.”
Rhys’s dark brows inched upward.
“I was told that you are the premier fossil hunter in the district.” His relaxed tone did not fool her; his power was not a blunt instrument but a subtly honed scalpel. “I wish to hire the best for the project I have in mind.”
“And we are not too busy, Mama,” Glory said, sounding puzzled. “I heard you telling Aunt Patty that we need more customers. And I’ve found us a perfectly good one—”
“I’ll not work for the likes of him.”
She immediately regretted her rash words. Rhys’s jaw clenched, and she fought to regain the composure she’d worked on for years. Why did this man’s mere presence make her feel once again like a wanton, ignorant bar maid—a dashedNo Goode?
Hypatia gave a discreet cough. “I am certain what Mrs. Foley means to say is that we would welcome the patronage of a fine gentleman such as yourself.” Her elbow connected not-so-discreetly with Maggie’s ribs. “Isn’t that true, Margaret?”
Maggie’s mind raced through possible excuses to turn down Rhys Jones without rousing further suspicion. To swerve away from the disaster that was approaching head-on like a runaway carriage.
“Generally, yes,” she said, thinking quickly. “In this case, however, I have promised my services to another client. He is arriving this week, in point of fact.”
“You cannot mean Mr. Pickering-Parks,” Patty said under her breath. “He is far from a sure thing, and he never spends more than fifty pounds tops. Every cent of which he’ll quibble over. You’ll have plenty of time to help Mr. Jones.”
Blooming hell.
Desperately, Maggie said, “I must be selective in who I choose to take on—”
“I begin to see the problem,” Rhys said.
She did not like his mocking drawl. Nor the dangerous glint in his eyes.
Warily, she said, “I’m glad. Then we will be on our way—”
“How much?”
She blinked at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“How much blunt will it require to…engage your services?”
His unsubtle innuendo shredded the last vestiges of her self-control.How dare that bastard bring up the past—humiliate me once more?
She lifted her chin. “Nothingyoucan afford, sir.”
“Try me.” Irritation edged his tone.
“Really, Margaret—” Hypatia began.
She held up a hand to cut the other off. “Contrary to what some may believe, money does not buy everything. I own a respectable business, and I will only work withrespectablegentlemen. Good day to you, sir.”
She knew she’d gone too far when hellfire blazed in Rhys’s eyes. A muscle leapt in his jaw. He vibrated with barely leashed power, like a stallion at the starting gate.
She marched past him and took hold of her daughter’s hand. “We are leaving, Glory.”
