“I am glad you came, Mr. Pearce.” Conrad waved at the chair across his desk. “Have a seat.”
“I don’t mind if I do, sir.” Pearce’s eager manner gave off a whiff of desperation. “May I ask what brings you to our little village?”
“I sought a change from the brisk pace of London.”
“Ah, yes. Chuddums is an oasis from modern life,” Pearce agreed. “My great-great-grandfather, Langdon Pearce, was an industrialist like yourself. He built a mill here—which still stands, though it has long been abandoned. A man of great vision, he had a hand in developing Chuddums. The village owes much of its charming character to him.”
Charming character? What a joke. Chuddums is a sinking hole and you know it.
Conrad rearranged some papers on his blotter. “A quaint slice of history, I’m sure.”
After an awkward pause, Pearce said, “The truth is, I have an ulterior motive for my visit.”
Why does that not surprise me?
“Oh?”
“Your financial prowess precedes you, Mr. Godwin, and I was hoping to get your advice on a matter. Confidentially, of course.”
Just like that, the solution presented itself to Conrad. It was simple, elegant, and, best of all, removed the spa from the equation. The strategy would allow him to have his revenge and Gigi. Exhilaration filled him, and he clenched his hands beneath the desk, reminding himself not to show his cards.
Looking his enemy in the eye, he said, “I would be glad to be of assistance.”
Chapter Thirteen
Two days later, Gigi was taking tea with her brothers and sister-in-law at the Leaning House. The group included her eldest brother James, the Earl of Manderly, who’d come from his estate a few hours away. At thirty-three, he was a younger version of Papa with his bronze-colored hair, grey-blue eyes, and brawny frame. Ever the impeccable heir, he had nary a wrinkle on his charcoal frock coat and black wool trousers, and his claret cravat formed a perfect knot beneath his square chin.
Mrs. Pettigrew had given them the best table next to the bow window, which offered privacy and a view of the square. Unfortunately, the view now included a large monument. The obelisk dedicated to Abel Pearce dominated the scene; the wintry sunlight gave the stone an unpleasant glow that made Gigi think of fleshy worms after a rain.
“What a remarkable addition to the square. And to think, Ethan.” James raised his cup of Assam tea. “We have you to thank for it.”
“How was I supposed to know what the monument would look like?” Ethan grumbled.
Of her brothers, Ethan was the one Gigi most physically resembled, as they’d both inherited their mama’s coloring. As a girl, Gigi had gone to Ethan first when she had a problem for, despite his overprotective nature, he was the most understanding of her siblings. While his injury had, understandably, turned him into a brooding curmudgeon for a few years, his marriage had restored his disposition.
“Didn’t Mrs. Pearce inform you?” James inquired.
Ethan scowled. “Her voice is like a badly tuned piano. Whenever she speaks, my ears close. It is instinctual—an act of self-preservation.”
Beside him, Xenia giggled, and a wry smile tugged on James’s lips.
While Gigi was happy to see James, she found it worrisome that he hadn’t brought his wife, Evie. When the pair had first wed, the sweet, shy blonde, had accompanied James everywhere. In the past year, however, Gigi had seen less of her sister-in-law, and whenever she asked James about it, he brushed it off or claimed that his wife, a budding botanist, was busy with her greenhouse.
Gigi sensed something was amiss with the pair. Just like she knew that Owen, who sat beside her, was still struggling with his demons. At times like this, her intuitive nature felt like a curse. Like the Cassandra of mythology, her ability to predict disaster was overshadowed by the fact that no one listened to her. She was forever treated like the baby sister who was loved and coddled but not taken seriously. Because she knew her family’s protectiveness came from a place of love, she didn’t hold it against them. But for Conrad to underestimate, nay demean, her abilities…that was too bitter a pill to swallow.
How dare he treat me so shabbily? It was not as if I expected gratitude, but a word of thanks or a “well done” would have sufficed. And I was beginning to…to like him, too.
A week had passed since their rendezvous in the caldarium. Luckily, no one knew about their indiscretion…except for Miss Letty. Out of necessity, Gigi had awakened her friend that morning and confessed to the events leading to the discovery of the caldarium (minus certain intimate details). While Miss Letty had been ecstatic over the existence of the secret chamber, she had also grasped the scandalous consequences if word got out that Gigi had been alone with a man. The spinster had vowed to take that secret to the grave.
Gigi’s reputation was safe for now. If only she could say the same for her sanity. Her righteous fuming over Conrad’s behavior was constantly interrupted by other memories of that night. The hot flick of his tongue, the teasing suction of his mouth, the way he’d ground his…his cock against her. Just thinking the word made her hot all over. She’d never felt anything like it…never known such pleasure existed. At night, she tossed and turned, trying to get those memories out of her head. Trying to ignore the ache between her legs. To block out his rough and undeniably arousing words.
I cannot wait to feel your drenched pussy squeezing my prick.
In the shadows of her bower, feverish curiosity had consumed her. If what he’d done on the outside, with layers of clothing between them, had felt so blissful, how would it feel to have him doing such things inside her?
It wasn’t just the pleasure she remembered. There were also the demons that had chased him through his dreams, and the vulnerability she’d glimpsed beneath his pitiless exterior. He was a complicated man with hidden depths, yet for a brief instant, he’d seemed to be letting her in…
It doesn’t matter. He’s made no effort to contact you, even though he has taken up residence in Honeystone Hall. You mean nothing to him.
